Summary:  At fourteen the kids in school harassed Little Joe calling him “killer.” Now, at seventeen, that name comes back to haunt him, putting his life in jeopardy. Rating T, WC 34,374

Killer

*** They told me I’d never get to tell my story too many bullet holes; it would take a miracle.  These voices inside my head like poison trying to steal my hope, silencing my soul.  But my story is only now beginning, don’t try to write my ending. *** (Song: Sound of Surviving by Nichole Nordeman)

The fresh spring air acted like a tonic, filling the four Cartwrights with a sense of joy and expectations of warmer temperatures.  It had been a severe winter that had lasted longer than anyone anticipated.  Ben Cartwright’s sons had been dispatched to handle different assignments.  The two eldest sons were both heading up to the northern pastureland to check on the new herd that they would be raising to take to market much later in the summer.  The youngest, Little Joe, had been given the pleasant task of going over to a neighboring ranch, the Circle W, to see the new horse stock that the owner had brought in from Arizona.  Though his mission had been to just take a quick look at the new mounts and then head out and meet up with his brothers, Joe had jumped at the chance.  Pa had known that job would please the boy and had purposely insisted that he be the one to do it.  He had expectations that it would lift the spirits of the seventeen-year-old who hadn’t had the best of weeks so far.  There had been some trouble in town.  Though Little Joe hadn’t said a word about the run-in at the Silver Dollar, his two brothers had told their father.  Pa hoped that going over to the Circle W would help his son forget all about what had happened a few nights ago.

That just left Ben’s job, and it was part business and part pleasure.  He would go into town and after getting supplies loaded into the buckboard he’d then go and have lunch with his friend, Sheriff Roy Coffee.  And so, with lists tucked inside of his vest, Ben had said a quick goodbye to the cook and caretaker, Hop Sing, and hitched up the wagon for the trip into Virginia City.

Ben loved spring; in fact, he liked it better than any other time of the year.  Passing by newly budding dogwoods, he found himself smiling at the sight.  He knew that soon there would be both pink and white blooms on the trees making the trip into town even more breathtaking.  Soon the homestead would be full of various blooming feasts for the eyes as the Ponderosa put on her best dress to announce the rebirth of the ranch. Ben laughed to himself when he thought about Hop Sing spending countless hours filling his prized flower boxes outside of the various windows there at the house.  The cook had a green thumb, that was a given, and Ben wasn’t going to be surprised at how fast the roses would be blooming around the front yard that year.

*************

Ben Cartwright was shaken from his musings and feeling of contentment when he heard the two loud reports of gunfire coming from somewhere up ahead.  He slapped the reins to the team of horses trying to pick up the pace.  He ascertained that by the sound from the gunshots that whoever had sent them off couldn’t be too far ahead of him.  The buckboard made it just past the blind turn in the road two miles from the ranch house when Ben spied the pinto off to the right side of the road. It was then that he spotted his youngest son lying still on the ground over to the left.

“Joseph!” Ben yelled as he abruptly pulled back on the reins and hopped down from the wagon.  He ran over to his son and knelt there alongside him.  “Joseph?  Can you hear me?” He asked as he gently rolled him over onto his back.

“Pah – Pa?” Joe muttered, his words coming out sounding thick.  He found that it was too hard to open his eyes as pain engulfed his body.

“Lie still,” Ben whispered as his fingers fought with the ties to his son’s jacket.  He had spotted a large amount of blood seeping out from the green corduroy material.

“Pa – I just couldn’t – I couldn’t shoot him,” Joe continued as he bit his bottom lip still fighting to stay conscious.

Throwing the jacket open, Ben studied the two holes there in the tan shirt. He automatically knew that his son was in serious trouble. The boy had been hit in his left shoulder and in his midsection.  Ben determined that trying to staunch the flow of blood wasn’t going to be an easy task because the wound in his stomach was bleeding profusely.  He carefully removed his son’s jacket and wadded it up inside the boy’s shirt.  “Joseph – try to hold onto this.  Just keep your hands pressed over your stomach,” the worried father instructed and lifted Joe’s hands up from his sides placing them over the jacket.  “Try to hold on to that, Son.  Keep pressure on it.  I’ll get you home as quick as I can.”  Ben lifted Joe up into his arms and carried him over to the bed of the buckboard where he gingerly set him down.  Shrugging out of his leather vest he rolled it up and propped the boy’s head onto it to provide a bit of a cushion.  Ben repositioned his son’s hands over the make-shift bandage, hoping Little Joe would stay conscious long enough to get back home.

“Who was it, Joseph?”

“It was Calvin Moran’s son, Pa.  I couldn’t draw on him – I’m sorry,” Joe tried once more to get his eyes open but couldn’t.

“I’ve got to get you home, Son.  Everything else can wait,” Ben insisted and then noticed that the hammer of Little Joe’s gun was still tethered down to his holster. It was now very apparent to him that the boy hadn’t even tried to get his gun out.  “Hold on, Joseph – just hold on!” He said breathlessly.  Ben affectionately brushed the hair back from the boy’s eyes. He quickly climbed up onto the bench seat and grabbed the reins.  Ben turned the horses back in the direction that they had come.  Slapping the reins hard, the team raced back towards the ranch house.

“Hop Sing!” Ben hollered as he pulled the buckboard up to the front hitching post.  He climbed down and hurried to the bed of the wagon, staring down at his boy.  Joe hadn’t stayed conscious and now his two arms lay lifelessly at his sides.  “Hop Sing!” Ben bellowed again and hoped that the cook had heard him.  He wished that Adam and Hoss were at home, but they had left to go check on the new herd right after daybreak.

“I’ve got you, Joseph,” Pa whispered as he carefully drew the boy up into his somewhat shaking arms.  He hadn’t missed the way Joe’s blood was now dripping down to the top of his trousers.

Hop Sing had heard Ben’s shout.  He walked out the front door only to see his boss lifting the injured boy up into his arms.

“What happen Little Joe?” Hop Sing asked as he swung the door open wide enough to allow both father and son to enter the house.

“Boy’s been shot.  Go check in the bunkhouse to see if any of the ranch hands are still here. If they are, send one of them to fetch Doc Martin.  If not, I’m going to need you to take the buckboard and head out and bring him back with you,” Ben answered as he headed for the staircase.

“Be back in minute!” Hop Sing responded and jogged out of the house and across the yard.

Reaching his son’s bedroom, Ben settled Joe down onto the comforter.  The movement made the injured boy come back to consciousness with a loud groan.

“Easy, Boy – I’ve got to get to those wounds.  Let me get you out of that holster first,” Pa said and unbuckled the gun belt.  Untying the rawhide strings from the boy’s thigh, he pulled the holster out from underneath Joe as gently as he could.

“Gut hurts – Pa,” Joe mumbled as he felt his father’s hands tugging on the buttons of his shirt.

“I’d imagine that it would,” Pa smiled, pretending that he wasn’t scared to death over what he had already witnessed.  After he had freed his son from the holster and his shirt, along with the wadded-up jacket, Ben saw the two gaping bullet holes.  There was one almost dead center in Joe’s stomach and the other was just a few inches down from his collar bone.  Ben reached over to the water basin and grabbed both the washcloth and towel which were hanging off to the side.  “This isn’t going to be pleasant, but we’ve got to try to slow down the bleeding, Boy,” he apologized and pressed the towel down onto Joe’s stomach wound and then the washcloth onto his shoulder.

Joe’s back arched and he screamed out in pain when he felt his father’s free hand pressing against his right shoulder.  Ben attempted to keep his son down in the bed, afraid that any sudden movement might cause the two bullets to shift their positions.

“Easy, Son, easy,” Pa crooned and then let go of the boy’s shoulder and instead grabbed his son’s right hand and squeezed it.  “It’s going to be okay, Joseph.  Just try to take a couple slow breaths.”

“Hop Sing go into town now!” the cook shouted as he came into view there at the doorway to Joe’s bedroom.  He was out of breath from running back and forth to the bunkhouse and then up the staircase.

Ben shot a concerned glance at the man and then replied, “Go on then.  Since you’ll be passing the main breaking corral see if anyone’s working out there today.  If they are, send somebody to get Doc and then come back here to help.   They’ll be able to make it faster on horseback.  If not, well, just get Doc out here as quickly as you can.”

“Yes Sir, Mister Ben —Hop Sing go fast!” Hop Sing exclaimed and ran out of the room on his new mission.

Ben turned his attention back to his son.  “You want to try some water, Joseph?”

Joe’s face scrunched up with an intense searing pain in his abdomen.  He had tried to hide how bad he was hurting, keenly aware that his father was very worried.  “Kinda sick at my stomach, Pa – better wait.”

Ben grabbed his son’s right hand and settled it over the towel and instructed, “Joe – hold this down for me for just a minute while I go and get another one.”  Ben waited until he could tell that his son had paid heed to his command. When he was sure that Joe was still conscious, he hurried across the room and out into the hallway.  There was a chest of drawers just outside of the boy’s bedroom which contained extra linens and towels.  Ben grabbed as many as he could, unsure of how long it would be before help would arrive.

“Here we are,” Pa called down to his son and lifted his hand off the towel which was now soaked with blood.   Tossing both soiled towels over to the basin, Ben tried to force a sense of calm to his voice.   “Let’s get you something a bit drier,” he explained and placed two thicker towels over both wounds.

“Pa?” Joe’s voice came out so faint that it was softer than a whisper this time.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry – sorry for what I did – and now to make you go through all of this,” he apologized.

Ben shook his head despondently and ran his fingers through his son’s hair, attempting to calm the boy.  “Joseph – did you let Moran get those shots off at you without even trying for your gun?”

With a great deal of effort, Joe finally got his eyelids open, and he stared up at his father.  “I’m sorry, Pa – I just couldn’t do it.”

“You couldn’t defend yourself?  You just let him shoot you – shoot you twice?” Ben responded incredulously.

Tears fell from Joe’s eyes, flowing down his cheeks as he fought to reply.  He was swept up in the memories of the past and they had gotten to him.  “I – I – I killed his pa.  If someone had shot and killed you, I’d want them dead too!  I just couldn’t do it.   I know I could’ve taken him – but I just couldn’t do it.  I’m sorry, Pa.”

There was a mountain load of responses that Ben could say to his youngest son at that moment.  There were countless past lectures which would serve their prior purposes in reminding Joseph just how wrong he was in the way that he was thinking.  But he couldn’t go there, not yet at least.  Joe was in bad shape, and it didn’t take a doctor to figure that one out.  The amount of blood loss combined with the fact that there were two bullets which had careened into the kid made it very clear that his son was in serious condition.  Currently there was no need to lecture his son on the right or wrong of what he had done.  Pa prayed that there would be time for that.  Joseph just had to survive.

“Shhh – shush now.  We can talk about all of that later.  I need you to just lie still, Son.  Doc will be here soon.  He’ll probably fuss and maybe even cuss – but he’ll get those bullets out of you and fix you all up,” Pa whispered and once again swiped a hand through his son’s curly hair.

“He – he called me what the kids used to call me, Pa.  He called me killer,” Joe choked out the words and then his eyes shut and didn’t reopen.

“Oh Joseph!” Ben gasped as he thought on what the boy had just confessed.  He laid the index and middle finger of his right hand against his son’s neck to check for a pulse.  It was still there, thank God!  Ben drew in a deep breath and shook his head feeling so petrified for his youngest that all he could do was to hold onto the towel, apply pressure, and say another prayer.   *** You’re not a killer – and you never were! *** Pa thought back to the reason why his son had made his statement.  He knew why that name had cut the boy so deeply, making him surrender to the will of the gunman who had shot him.  It had all begun three years ago.

*************

It had happened so fast that, in retrospect, Little Joe couldn’t even say how he had managed to get a hold of the Colt revolver let alone aim it.  Pa had been sitting right next to him in the buckboard.  They had been talking about plans for the weekend as Ben was driving the boy to school that Friday.  Joe had shown his father the picture he had drawn of the Mayflower as a project for his history class and Pa was praising him for getting it done on time.  Little Joe was sitting right next to his father, and Pa had his Colt revolver resting there inside his holster.  Ben had intended to pick up some supplies in town after dropping the boy at the schoolhouse.  It was a typical day and neither of them suspected that danger lay just ahead around the blind turn in the road.

The familiar sound of a rifle being cocked gave Ben the first clue that there was trouble brewing up ahead.  He untethered the hammer of his Colt and tried not to alarm the boy at his side.

“Joseph – will you look under the bench seat to see if I brought the canteen?” Ben asked, attempting to get his son out of danger without causing alarm.

“Sure, Pa, let me put my picture down,” Little Joe answered and carefully rolled up his drawing.  He then dropped down to the floor of the buckboard just as the first bullet singed by, barely missing his father’s head.

Ben brought the team of horses to an abrupt halt and ducked down, throwing a hand onto his son’s head to hold him still.  “Stay down.  Don’t move, Son— don’t move!”

“I’ve been waiting on you, Cartwright – but it looks like I get two for the price of one!” The man on the black stallion yelled as he approached with his rifle cocked and ready to unload on Ben and Little Joe.  He was coming down a narrow path which wound its way through a large outcropping of boulders.  It had proven to be an excellent spot to catch Ben Cartwright by surprise as it offered the best cover.  The man kept his rifle trained on the man in the buckboard and the youngster next to him.

Ben reached for his Colt but the man with the rifle spied the move.   He fired the rifle and Pa’s gun was sent flying out of his hand.  Ben groaned from the pain caused by the bullet which had nicked his wrist and sent reverberations all the way up his right arm.

“The next one’s to your head, Cartwright, and then that little brat will get his!”

Ben closed his eyes for just a moment and made his peace with God. He prayed that somehow his boy would be spared.  At that very instant Little Joe noticed Pa’s Colt.  It had flown down to the footboard only inches from where he had been shoved out of the line of fire by his father.  Hearing the distinct sound of the rifle cocking once more, Joe’s instincts had kicked in.  His only thought was to try and protect his pa no matter what the cost.   He twisted his body and dove towards the Colt and had it up in his left hand in under two seconds.  Little Joe had never pointed a gun at an animal let alone a man, but he knew that he had to do it.  He didn’t even remember aiming the six-gun, but he had.  When the gunshot rang out It came as a complete surprise to both the man with the rifle and Ben Cartwright.  In a split second the man who had been up on top of the black stallion lay dead on the ground.

Ben glanced at the assailant and realized that he wasn’t moving and posed no further threat. He stared over at Little Joe who was still holding the Colt as though he was frozen in place.  The boy’s eyes seemed fixed, and he appeared to be in shock.

“Easy, Boy, easy.  Let me hold the gun.  Everything is alright now.  That’s it, let me ease it out of your hand, Joseph,” Ben coaxed.  He had to pry off each of his son’s fingers one at a time until the weapon was loose enough to pull it from the boy’s hand.  Finally, taking it from the boy, he settled it back inside his holster and then jumped down from the buckboard.  He walked towards the man lying so still there on the ground.  Bending down Ben checked for a pulse and found none.  It was then that he realized it was Calvin Moran, a former hired hand who had been let go earlier in the year for stealing.  Evidently, he had carried enough of a grudge that he was not only willing to kill Ben Cartwright, but also his fourteen-year-old son.

Turning his attention back to his boy, Pa climbed into the wagon and tried to get Joe to speak to him.  He shook his shoulders but got no response at all.  Finally, Ben had to resort to lightly slapping Little Joe’s face to try and bring him around.

“Joseph?  C’mon, Son – it’s okay – everything is okay now,” Ben crooned to the boy, attempting to gently bring him back to reality.

“Pa – Pa – are you – I mean you aren’t – oh Pa!” Joe cried, so afraid that his father had been seriously injured by the first bullet which the evil man had fired.  He focused his attention on the blood that coated the cuff of his father’s shirtsleeve.

“I’m fine, Boy – just fine.  I only have a little nick on my wrist, and it’s already stopped bleeding.  It’s okay, Joseph, don’t you worry everything is going to be just fine.  The danger’s passed now,” Ben reassured the boy as he hugged him close.

Joe stared over at his father’s gun resting back inside of his holster.  He then looked into Pa’s eyes.  It was then that his tears came, and he dropped his head down to his chest.  “I broke my promise, Pa — I broke it!” Little Joe sobbed.

Ben didn’t have a clue as to what his son was talking about and was about to chalk the boy’s outburst up to him still suffering from shock.  It was only then that he suddenly remembered what had happened two months earlier.

“Oh, Joseph,” Pa whispered and pulled his son to his chest to comfort him.  He knew exactly why his son was upset and it had everything to do with Joseph using a gun.

***********

Little Joe hadn’t bothered to look up when he heard his bedroom door open.  He could hear bootsteps as they approached his bed.   There was no disguising his father’s walk.  Refusing to make a sound Joe just waited, figuring he’d be hearing from the man soon enough.

“Roll over and look at me,” Pa ordered as he sat on the side of the bed next to the boy.

Little Joe still didn’t utter a word, nor did he roll over as he’d been commanded.

Frowning, Ben reached over and pried his son from his current position forcing him to face him.

“Now, Son, are you going to just lie here and ignore me?”

“I ain’t got nothing to say,” Joe whispered.

Pa placed his hand down onto his son’s shoulder and stared at him hard.

“You had plenty to say when you were lying to me earlier.”

“Yeah – and you had plenty to say when you were up here giving me a tanning too,” Little Joe returned, upset over all that had transpired that night.

“Yes, I did, Joseph.  And you know why, now don’t you?”

Little Joe looked away from his pa’s eyes, not wanting to face him or hear anymore lectures.

“I asked you a question, now I expect an answer.  And for goodness sakes look at me!” Pa took the boy’s chin into his hand and repositioned it, forcing Joe to make eye contact with him.

“I took Adam’s gun that’s why.  And I shot it around back of the house,” Joe answered, his voice faltering.

“And haven’t we spoken about that before, Joseph?”

Joe closed his eyes to shut his father out.  Since he couldn’t pull his chin away from Pa’s grasp, it was the only way he could avoid his penetrating gaze.

“Yes, Sir.”

“What have I told you about using any of the guns around here?” Ben continued to bring home his point.

“You said when I was old enough, you’d let me have my own gun.  But I think I’m old enough already.  And I can shoot good too,” Joe argued.

“Oh?  So, you’ve done a good bit of shooting have you?” Pa questioned, raising his eyebrows in gesture.

Little Joe knew he had talked too much so he clammed up just so he wouldn’t be incriminating himself any further.

“Joseph, I believe you know better than to lie to me now, don’t you?”

Joe simply nodded his head; his chin still held in his father’s grasp.

“It wasn’t until today that I found out that you’ve been going off with several of the Colt revolvers that we’ve got around here.  Now, how many times have you gone out and shot one?  You might just as well tell me, Joseph.”

“About ten times,” Little Joe admitted sullenly.

Ben shook his head, frustrated and angry over the way his youngest had both lied and disobeyed the rules.  “Why did you do that, Joseph?  I told you that it’s dangerous and you could’ve been hurt!  That’s why I had to give you a tanning tonight.”

Little Joe pulled himself up into a sitting position when his father’s hand finally let go of his chin.

“Because I want to be grown up, Pa.  I don’t want to be a boy anymore.  I want to go to work like Adam and Hoss and not go to school and do kid’s stuff.  And part of being a grown-up man is shooting a gun,” Joe explained, and this time he stared directly into his father’s eyes seeking understanding.

Ben had to fight back his desire to smile at the boy sitting there.  He was only fourteen years old but apparently was hurrying to be twenty-one.  “Joseph, listen, you’re going to be old enough for me to get you a gun in just a couple of years.  I’ll take you shooting and show you all about safety and how to care for it.  But right now, I don’t want you touching any of our guns again, understood?”

Joe looked away from his father, directing his focus down on his bedspread.  “Even if I find a gun?  What if I find a gun that doesn’t belong to anybody?  Can I have it then?”

Pa stared down at his son and started to get the strange feeling that Joseph was revealing something in his question.  “Okay, Joseph — where is it?  Where is this gun that you just happened to find?”

“I didn’t exactly say that I found one —,” Little Joe began but then noticed his father’s narrowing eyebrows and realized he had told on himself.

“Joseph?”

“Okay,” he replied with a frown.  He slowly climbed down from the bed.  He edged away from his pa and walked to the nightstand.  Bending down he reached underneath and pulled out an old rusty Colt revolver.  “I didn’t steal it, Pa, honest– I found it in the woods.  It wouldn’t fire – but I was thinking maybe I could clean it up and get it to work?”

Ben held his hand out, “Give it here – and be careful – point it down and hold it butt side up, Joseph!”

Little Joe relinquished it to his father and stared up at him wondering what he was thinking.  Pa grew very quiet as he checked the pistol over.  He was appalled when he found that there were three live rounds inside of the gun.

“Joseph, you could have been killed!  Don’t you understand that there are bullets in this gun? It could’ve gone off if you had kept messing around with it or dropped it!” Pa shouted, so fearful of how close he had come to losing his boy.

“Pa – it’s okay – I tried to shoot it, but it wouldn’t go off.  It couldn’t have shot me!” Little Joe explained.

Ben examined the gun thoroughly and looked back over at his son. “Young Man, the firing pin is intact, but you might not have cocked the hammer back all the way.  This gun could’ve killed you or someone else.  Now – do you have ANY other weapons in your possession?”

Little Joe shook his head and stared down at the floor.  The way that Pa had yelled he figured he’d probably be due for yet another tanning.

Ben noticed the apprehensive look spreading across his son’s face and he fought not to yell at the kid again.  He shucked all the shells out of the cylinder of the gun and made sure that there wasn’t a bullet lodged inside the barrel.  Satisfied that it was now empty, Pa set it down onto the nightstand.

“Come here, Joseph,” Pa whispered.  He could tell that his son was purposely standing back with both fear and dread displayed on his face.  “I’m not going to punish you. Just come here, Son.”

Little Joe cautiously approached the bed until he was standing next to his father’s legs.  He was half expecting to be pulled across his lap to get another tanning.  Instead, however, Pa lifted him up and placed him alongside him.  He wrapped the boy in his arms and held onto him like he was holding on for dear life; he was.  Little Joe looked into his father’s eyes and noticed the glazing of tears in them.

“Pa?  Pa, what’s wrong?” Little Joe whispered.

Ben continued to hold onto his son, slowly rocking him in his arms.  “I could’ve lost you, Boy.  I could’ve lost you if that gun had gone off,” he choked out, filled with both worry and relief.  He attempted to fight off the paralyzing fear over what could have happened.  Pa brushed aside the glistening of tears in his eyes and coughed into his hand to dislodge the latent emotion in his voice.  “Please listen to me about the danger of fooling around with guns, Joseph.  I know that I can’t always be here to watch over you.  If I had come home and found out that you had been hurt or killed because you’d gotten hold of a gun – well — I just couldn’t bear it.  Joseph— promise me you won’t ever touch another gun again until I say it’s okay.”

Little Joe could read the fear and anguish all over his father’s face and it made him hurt to know that he had been the cause of it.  He rarely had seen his Pa cry, and he knew that the tears in his father’s eyes had been due to the worry he had caused him.  Little Joe knew that Pa was dwelling on what could have happened to him that day.

“Pa – Pa I promise, I promise you that I won’t touch any old gun ever again.  I won’t touch any of them in the house and even if I find one somewhere else, I’ll leave it alone.  I’m sorry that I made you upset, Pa.  I’ll keep my promise to you,” Little Joe vowed and held onto his father, now expending tears of his own.

Ben leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead and noticed the way the boy’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist.  He could tell that Joseph was being honest with him this time and relief spread across his face for the first time all day.  “Thank you, Son.   I never want to lose you, Boy.  I love you,” Pa whispered.

“I love you too, Pa.  I’m sorry I made you worry – but I’ll keep my promise to you.   I won’t ever touch another gun again until you say that I can.”

Ben held onto his son and a loving smile filtered down onto his lips, “I know you’ll keep your promise, Joseph.”

**************

“Joseph, it’s okay you didn’t do anything wrong.  In fact, you saved our lives,” Ben whispered as he held his son in his arms.  The boy was trembling, and his father was unsure if it was due to having fired the weapon, the death of the man who now lay there on the ground next to the buckboard, or his guilt over having broken his promise.

“Pa – I promised you that I wouldn’t touch a gun.  And you didn’t tell me I could do it.  But I was scared.  I was scared that the man would kill you!  When I saw your gun fly out of your hand, I thought he was gonna gun you down, Pa.  I had to – I had to take up your gun,” Little Joe’s voice came out with a flood of emotions and in one rapid breath.

“Easy, Joseph, it’s okay.  You had good instincts.  I don’t know how you were able to make that shot.   I don’t know if I could’ve done as well as you did.  But you saved us.   It’s not breaking a promise when you’re trying to save someone’s life, Son.”

Joe looked into his father’s eyes and then down at the dead man.  He jumped out of the buckboard and raced around to the back where he lost his breakfast.  Little Joe bent over and between the dry heaves and his tears, he broke down over the fact that he’d taken a life.

“I – I wasn’t trying to kill no one, Pa.  I just sort of aimed towards his middle.  I was afraid I’d miss him if I tried for his arm.   I haven’t had any practice.  I haven’t even touched a gun since I made that promise to you.  I – I’m sorry I killed somebody –even though he was a bad man,” Joe stuttered, filled with guilt over what he had done.

Ben grabbed the canteen and soaked his neckerchief.  He then used it to wipe his son’s face off to clean him up a bit.  “Joseph, you did the only thing that you could’ve done in that situation to protect the two of us.  I know you didn’t set out to purposely kill him.  We were seconds away from being killed ourselves.   I’d say you did the only thing you could do.  It’s called self-defense, Son, and that’s legal so don’t worry about it, okay?  Now you climb back up on the seat and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Pa?” Little Joe asked, looking down at the ground still fighting back his tears.

“Yes, Joseph?”

“I don’t really want to use a gun anymore – it’s not a good feeling,” he admitted sadly.

Ben knelt next to the boy and tenderly placed a hand onto his face. He tried to think of something that would help his son.  “Joseph, if you hadn’t gotten to that gun – well — most likely both of us would be dead now.  Guns aren’t bad.  People who have bad intentions are the ones to blame — not guns.  Do you understand, Son?”

“I think so,” Joe nodded, still not looking up at his father.

“You remember I told you that when you’re sixteen, I’d start teaching you how to use a gun?”

“Yes, Sir,” Little Joe answered, finally staring into his pa’s eyes.

“I think you’ll be ready by fifteen, Joseph, not sixteen.   And that’s only about six months from now.  Once I show you how to be responsible and respect what a gun can do –well you won’t be afraid to use one again.  But as far as today goes, I’m proud of you. Your brothers couldn’t have done any better shooting than what you did – nor could your father,” Pa announced proudly and patted his son’s back.  He prayed that his words had sunk in to relieve the boy’s feeling of guilt.

Joe read the pride and respect in his father’s gaze.   “Thanks, Pa,” He whispered and hugged his father.  Little Joe had understood what Pa had told him, yet he was still sick to his stomach over the fact that he had killed a man.  He didn’t want to show it on his face, since Pa had tried to tell him that it was okay to have done it.  However, the minute that his father stood and placed the dead man inside the buckboard, Joe felt as though he was going to vomit again.  He was worried about what would happen once they arrived in Virginia City, and he’d have to tell Sheriff Coffee about how the man was killed.  Ben sent the team of horses back into motion.  Little Joe sat rigidly next to his father never uttering one solitary word all the way into town.

************

It had been a long afternoon as the worried father waited for help to arrive.  Ben had freed his son from his boots to make the boy feel a bit more comfortable and then went back to applying pressure to both wounds.  Little Joe hadn’t budged an inch for hours causing his father to check every now and again to make sure that the boy was still breathing.  All Ben could do was to tend the gunshot wounds by switching out the blood-soaked towels for fresh ones and wait.  Nothing would take the place of having a doctor there.  Ben stood from the chair when he heard bootsteps coming down the hall.  Doctor Paul Martin made his way into the bedroom and cast an apprehensive look over at his old friend.

“Hop Sing came in right behind me, and he’s gone to boil some water.  How bad is he?” Doc asked breathlessly as he placed his black medical bag onto the nightstand.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Paul,” Ben replied and reached over and shook the doctor’s hand.  “The boy took two bullets, one to the shoulder and one to his stomach.  He’s been bleeding bad ever since I found him.”

Paul leaned over and lifted each of the blood-soaked towels and frowned.  “I’d better go wash up, Ben,” He announced as he looked at the wash basin and noticed the soiled towels sitting inside.

“Use the basin in my room next door, Paul.  You’ll find fresh water and clean towels off to the side.”

Nodding over to the worried father he turned back into the hall.  Doctor Martin had spent so much time in the past caring for the Cartwright family that he could, in fact, find each bedroom with a blindfold over his eyes.  He hurriedly washed off and then reappeared in Joe’s room and made his way next to the boy.

“I guess by now both you and Hop Sing know what I’ll be needing.  You go ahead and help him bring up some lamps and fetch the boiling water so I can get my scalpel ready.  I’ve got the boy, go on now, Ben.”

Casting a quick glance over at Joe, Ben withdrew from the room to bring the doctor what he’d be needing to perform the surgery to remove the two bullets.  By the time he made it down the stairs, the front door flew open and in rushed both Adam and Hoss.

“Pa!  We ran into Fletcher who was bringing Cochise in, and he told us that Little Joe was gunned down.  How is he?” Hoss was first to ask about his little brother.

“Not good – but Doc’s here.   I could use the two of you to help me.  There’re lights to fetch and the water Hop Sing has on the stove.  Come on, Boys, let’s get to it.  Your brother’s got two bullets he needs to get out.”

“Who did it?” Adam asked as the three men rounded the corner and headed into the kitchen.”

“That’ll keep, Adam.  Joseph needs our help,” He answered.  Ben understood why his son had asked.  Both of his older boys would want to go after whoever had harmed their little brother.  But it wasn’t a time for revenge or justice, it was time to try and save the boy’s life.

***********

By the time the three Cartwrights, along with Hop Sing, made their way back into Little Joe’s room they could see that Paul was ready to get down to business.  He had draped the boy with a sheet and removed all his clothes except for his long john bottoms which he had pulled down to Joe’s hips.

Paul stared over at the mounting fear that Joe’s family members wore on their faces.  He knew that they would have a tough time watching him digging out the two bullets.

“I believe that Hop Sing and I can handle this on our own.  Set down that pan of water there on the nightstand and put those two lights on either side of the bed.  Then I want you three to go and head downstairs,” He called across the room.

The three Cartwrights along with Hop Sing went about setting up the room so the doctor could perform the operation.  Pa stared over at Hoss and Adam who didn’t look as though they were about to listen to what Paul had said.  “Go on, Boys,” Ben nodded over to his sons.  He watched as they stared over at their brother and then sullenly retreated into the hallway.

“Ben?  I don’t need you in here,” Paul tried again, his voice showing concern.

Shaking his head, Pa walked over to the bed and stared over at Paul, who stood on the other side.  “I’m staying – don’t try to shoo me away,” Ben announced adamantly.

Paul sighed in defeat.  He knew where the Cartwright boys got their stubbornness.  Without a doubt it came from their father.  “Fine – go light down in that chair I don’t need you breathing over my shoulder.”

Ben softly ran his hand down his son’s right cheek and muttered words of encouragement to the boy and then settled down into the chair as he’d been directed.

“Alright, Hop Sing, you hold that lamp up for me so I can see what I’m doing,” Paul directed and took the probe into his hand.  “I’m going to start with the bullet there in the boy’s stomach.  It’s the one that looks like it’s going to be the hardest to get out.”

Ben closed his eyes in prayer and then watched as Doc began his probe.  He had seen enough gunshot wounds in his time, but Pa never got used to seeing one in any of his sons.  And this time Joseph had two.  Pa knew that it was going to be a very long evening.

***********

Doctor Martin spent the better part of the next two hours skillfully removing the two bullets.  He had tried to ascertain if any organs had been hit or whether the reason for the perfuse bleeding had just been a case of tissue damage due to the slug hitting Joe’s stomach the way it had.  After he had removed both bullets from Joe’s shoulder and abdomen, Paul went about suturing the wounds and applying antiseptic over the whole area.  He then wound a tight pressure bandage around Joe’s abdomen and stood to get the kinks out of his back.

As soon as Hop Sing had gathered all the instruments and soiled towels, along with the basin which held two spent bullets, he turned and left the room.  His next duty would be to prepare supper for the family now that Little Joe had been tended to.

“Well?” Pa finally asked as he watched the doctor rinsing his hands in the fresh basin of water which Hop Sing had provided.  “What do you think, Paul?”

Rolling his sleeves down the doctor turned and addressed the anxious father facing him.  “Well – what I think is that we were very lucky this time, Ben.   Evidently the gunman wasn’t too close to Little Joe, so both bullets were just about spent when they hit him.  Thank the Good Lord that was the case or this boy wouldn’t have lasted until I got here.  Fortunately, there were no arteries or organs affected. I’ve stitched the boy up good.  I know he bled a great deal and Little Joe’s going to be weak after all of this.  But I believe he’ll be okay in time.  He’s going to need rest – and plenty of it.  Barring any infection, he should heal up just fine.  The path of those bullets, if they’d gone any further, might have killed him.  So, once again your youngest had luck or Divine Intervention on his side,” Paul announced smiling as he patted Ben’s shoulder.

“Thank God,” Ben sighed with relief and walked over to the bed.  “You hear that, Joseph?  Your guardian angel, though he or she is very overworked, is still over your shoulder!” Ben whispered to his son, who was still unconscious.  He ran his fingers through his son’s damp hair and then turned back towards the doctor.  “I don’t know how to thank you, Paul.”

“Maybe if you’d feed me supper, I’ll call us even,” He mused and closed his medical bag.  “Have someone sit with the boy tonight.  I’m going to leave some medicine for pain.  Just give him a tablespoon every four hours,” Paul instructed and handed Ben a bottle of laudanum.

“Let’s see about getting you that supper.   I’ll get Hoss up here to sit with Joseph,” Pa nodded and walked to the hallway and sang out for Hoss to come up the stairs.

Both of his sons came when they heard their father’s call.  Hurrying up to the bedroom, they walked over to the bed and stared down at Little Joe.

“He’s going to be okay, Boys, your brother just needs rest and lots of it,” Paul nodded.

“Hoss, you sit with Joseph while I go and see that Hop Sing feeds Doc after all his labors.  The poor man has been bent over your brother for hours,” Pa explained.

“So, he’s out of danger?” Adam asked as his father and the doctor prepared to leave the bedroom.

“I’m not downplaying those injuries, Adam.  The poor kid’s going to be hurting bad I expect.  If he doesn’t end up with any kind of an infection, I believe he will be okay.  I’ve left some pain medicine, and I’ll be back tomorrow to change those bandages.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Both brothers sang out in unison as they took seats on opposite sides of the bed.

“Adam?  You staying with your brother too?” Ben questioned.

“Yeah – you two go on and get some grub and Hoss and I will do what you usually do, Pa.  We’ll sit here and fuss over the kid,” Adam grinned.

Ben sent a knowing smile over to both of his sons.  “I’ll be back to sit with the boy as soon as I get Doc fed,” Pa announced and then turned out of the room with Paul at his side.

**************

Joe hadn’t come around until the wee hours of the morning.  Ben had been in his normal battle position, sitting in the chair next to his son’s bed.  He had been awakened by the soft moan which came out through Little Joe’s parched lips.

“Joseph?” Pa whispered to the boy and took a seat on the bed next to him.  “Can you hear me?” He asked softly and dropped his hand down onto his son’s right arm, gently stroking it as he tried to ease him back to consciousness.

Joe gave a weak nod and slowly opened his eyes.

“Let’s get some water in you,” Pa insisted as he grabbed the glass and poured some water from the pitcher.  Cradling Joe’s head in his hand, he brought the drink up to his son’s lips.

Joe drank what he could, assisted by his father’s hand and then announced, “That’s good, Pa — don’t think I can take in anymore.”

Pa eased the boy’s head back onto the pillow and smiled down at him.  “How do you feel, Son?”

Joe’s right hand fell to his stomach and his face flinched.  “Hurting, Pa – did Doc get the bullet out?”

“Yes, both of them in fact,” Ben announced wryly and pulled the bottle of medicine off the nightstand.  “Doc wants you to take some of this,” he insisted and poured a tablespoon of the laudanum. He held it up to his son’s lips.

Normally Joe would have protested over taking medicine but this time he had gladly downed it, causing his father to be alarmed.

“You scared all of us this time, Joseph – even Doc,” Pa said as he settled the medicine bottle back onto the nightstand and took his son’s right hand into his own.

Joe’s face scrunched up due to the two wounds and the numerous sutures held in place by the tight bandages which encircled his shoulder and waist.  “I think I scared myself too, Pa.  I’m just glad you came when you did.”

“You said that it was Moran’s son?  He’s the one your brothers said that you had words with there in town the other night, right?”

Joe nodded, “Yeah – but I wasn’t counting on him getting the jump on me today.  And especially there – you know – where it all happened three years ago?”

Ben brushed his fingers through his son’s hair to calm him and shook his head.  It had only occurred to him after the crisis was over that Joe had been shot in the exact location where Calvin Moran had tried to kill the two of them when his son was fourteen.

“Son – did it happen too fast – is that why you didn’t draw your gun?”  He inquired, hoping that what Joseph had told him earlier hadn’t been the complete truth and that he hadn’t intentionally refused to use his weapon.

Joe closed his eyes and whispered, “Pa – I’m getting a bit woozy from that medicine you just gave me.  If it’s alright, can we talk about it later?”

Ben had honed the ability to read his youngest very well over the years and could tell that Joe wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened.  He knew that the boy had to be exhausted due to the loss of blood.  He decided to wait on pressing him about the details of the shooting.  Easing off the bed, Pa leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his son’s forehead and pulled the covers up around his shoulders.  He had been so terrified the previous day, thinking that he was going to lose the boy after his run-in with the gunman.  Nothing else really mattered at that moment other than the fact that Joe was going to pull through.

“That’s fine, Joseph, – you just go on back to sleep.  We can talk about all this later.  Just rest,” Pa crooned as he placed the palm of his right hand onto the boy’s left cheek.  He allowed it to rest there for a few minutes until he was confident that his son had fallen back under.  The laudanum had finally taken effect. Ben sighed as he sat back down into the side chair.  He knew that Joseph would have a lot to explain to him, but not until he was ready.

***********

After breakfast the next morning Ben sat in the living room with Adam and Hoss and went over all that had happened the previous day.  Hop Sing had been watching Joe ever since he’d put the food on the table, so the three Cartwrights could go over what they knew about the shooting.

“So – it happened at the exact same place where you and Joe had your run-in with Moran three years ago, Pa?” Hoss asked, surprised by the information his father had proffered.

Ben sighed and set down his coffee cup.  He then nodded over to Hoss.  “That’s right – the same place.  I doubt it was a coincidence either.”

“From what I remember, Pa, Moran’s son didn’t even live in Nevada when his father was killed.  Seems kind of odd that after three years, he’d show up now.  We thought he didn’t have a family when he hired on with us.  He never spoke about any of them at least,” Adam added.

“I know.  And I also remember that Roy had to try and find his next of kin after Moran was buried.  It was only then that we learned that he had an estranged wife out in Colorado along with a twenty-year-old son.  The sheriff sent his wife a wire, and she replied to Roy that she had no interest in the fact that he had been killed and that was it.  I was unaware when I hired him that he was a big-time gambler, which is probably one of the reasons that he stole from us.  He had incurred numerous debts in town from what I recall.  I had to fire him when I learned he was stealing from some of the men out in the bunkhouse as well as taking some cash from my desk.”

“So – I wonder where this Lucas fellow has been these last three years and why he’d just come after Little Joe now, Pa?” Hoss continued.

Ben shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.  “You both told me that Moran just walked up to your little brother the other night and started asking him all kinds of questions, right?”

Adam nodded and replied, “Joe was up at the bar and the two of us were at a table when a stranger just walked over and appeared to be trying to mess with him.  By the time we realized that Moran was giving him a hard time, Joe just left the saloon without saying anything to us.  But after the kid left Hoss and I questioned Moran about why he had been bothering our brother.  All he said was that we’d find out and then he left too.  When we got home Little Joe clammed up on us when we asked him what happened.  The only piece of information he gave us was that it had been Calvin Moran’s son Lucas who he had been talking to at the bar.  After that he just said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Well, evidently, he must have tried to get under your brother’s skin—maybe wanting a gunfight right there at the Silver Dollar?  Joseph was tight-lipped about it with me too.  He just told me that it wasn’t anything important.”

“I wish we’d known.  We would’ve fixed the situation before it got this far out of control.  I hate that the kid got taken by surprise,” Adam fumed.

Ben stood and stared down at his two sons and had to tell them the truth of the matter.  “Boys – Joe might have been caught by surprise, but yesterday when I got him home, he confessed that he could’ve taken Lucas Moran.  But he said that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Joseph’s gun was still in his holster; the hammer wasn’t even untethered.  He never tried for his gun.  He still feels guilty for having killed the man’s father.  At least that’s what Joseph told me.  And on top of all of that he said that Moran’s son called him killer.”

Hoss and Adam exchanged woeful glances.  They both remembered how that moniker had affected their little brother after he had killed Calvin Moran.

“I remember, Pa — I remember how mean those kids at school were to Little Joe.  They began calling him killer and it ate at the kid every day.  It was a real rough time for the boy,” Hoss admitted sadly.

“I know,” Ben replied with a weary sigh.  He moved away from his sons, turning his attention to the fireplace.  The awful memory was still far too fresh in his mind.  He had spent most of the previous night just reflecting on all that his youngest had endured three years ago.

************

The buckboard pulled up in front of the Virginia City Jail and Ben stared over at his son.  He was worried about the fact that Joe hadn’t said one word since they had left the scene of the shooting.  He reached over and patted his son’s knee and tried to get his attention.

“Sit here for just a minute, Joseph, I’ll be right back,” Pa said as he stepped down from the wagon.

Joe nodded and tried not to look back into the bed of the buckboard.  He had already seen the dead man’s face and the fact that his eyes were still wide open.  It sent shivers down his spine.  Little Joe prayed that Pa wouldn’t be inside the jail too long.

Ben found Sheriff Coffee sitting at his desk and the other man could tell that his old friend was very upset at the time.  Painstakingly Pa explained all that had gone on there on the Ponderosa and why he had brought in a dead man.  Roy sat patiently and listened and waited until Ben got it all out before asking any questions.

“Is Little Joe out there or did you drop him off at school?” Roy asked standing up and preparing to go outside.”

“He’s out in the buckboard and Joseph isn’t taking it very well.  He’s not said a word since I loaded Moran in the back.  Go easy on him will you, Roy?”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Ben.  I feel for the kid.  It’s not something a fourteen-year-old boy should have to deal with.  It must’ve been awfully hard on the kid, having to kill a man after seeing his pa shot.  You need to go see Doc, Ben – that nick of yours needs tending,” Roy urged as he spotted the blood there on Pa’s shirtsleeve.

Ben nodded, “I intend to – once we get Moran over to the undertakers.”

“I’ll have to talk to Little Joe – but I’ll keep it short.  It’s pretty easy to figure out what happened out at the ranch,” the sheriff said, and the two men headed out the door.

Joe was still where Pa had left him sitting but he had dropped his head down in his hands.

“Little Joe – you okay?” The sheriff asked as he approached him.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied and finally pulled his head up to stare at Roy.  “I – I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to kill nobody.  I just shot Pa’s gun.  I thought that man was gonna kill him, Sheriff.  I mean – well – Pa got shot and I –,” Joe trailed off, his words had come out so fast he had to stop himself.  Pa had told him that he wasn’t in any trouble, but he felt as though he was for having used a gun in the first place.

Roy sent a quick glance over at Ben and saw him shaking his head.  He could tell that Joe’s father was concerned about the way the boy was taking the whole awful event.  “Now there’s nothing to worry about, Little Joe.  You done the only thing that you could do.   I just needed to hear it from your own mouth – you know so I can write it down?  You ain’t in any trouble, Boy.”

“But—but I killed him, do I have to go on trial for murder?” Joe questioned, worriedly biting his bottom lip.

Ben walked closer to the buckboard and put his hand onto his son’s shoulder.  “Is that what you’ve been worrying about on the whole drive here, Joseph?  Don’t you remember that I told you that self-defense isn’t a crime?” He asked gently.

Joe looked back down to the floor of the wagon and nodded his head.  “I figured I’d have to stand trial, Pa.  And I thought you were just not telling me so’s I wouldn’t get scared.”

The sheriff gave a knowing smile and then tried to ease the boy’s mind again.  “Little Joe, you won’t have to stand trial –,” he began but Joe cut him off in mid-sentence.

“Pa shouldn’t have to stand trial neither, Sheriff Coffee!  He didn’t do nothing wrong — it was all me!” Joe exclaimed, now worried that his father was going to be the one who would be held responsible for the death of the man in the back of the wagon.

“Settle down, Joseph,” Ben called to his son.  “Let the sheriff explain this to you.”

“Yes, Sir.   I’m sorry – I just don’t want you to go to jail, Pa,” Joe whispered.

“No-one’s going to jail, Little Joe.  Like your father said what happened was a case of self-defense.  I’ll write it up all nice and legal like and then it goes over to the prosecutor’s office.  Then they’ll just look at the facts, and the case will be closed.  Your pa isn’t in any trouble, and you aren’t either.”

Joe stared into Roy’s eyes and read sincerity in them.  “Thank you, Sheriff Coffee, I really really didn’t mean to kill him.  I swear to you I didn’t!  I just didn’t want him to hurt my pa.  He’d already shot him in the hand.”

Roy reached over and patted the nervous boy’s arm and reassured, “Little Joe – a boy of fourteen ain’t usually got the gun skills to make the kind of a shot that you did.  I’m just glad that you thought quick enough – so’s neither your pa nor you were killed.  Now no more worrying about any of this, you hear?”

Joe nodded and looked over at his father.  “Pa – can we go now?”

Roy and Ben exchanged worried glances because they knew that Calvin Moran’s body needed to get to the undertaker before the Cartwrights could leave town.

“Joseph— we have two more stops.  We need to stop by the mortician’s office – and then I guess I need to have Doc put a bandage on my wrist.  But neither will take long, Son.”

Joe looked back down at the floor of the wagon and grew quiet once more.  He wished that they didn’t have to deliver the man’s body anywhere.  He had hoped that the sheriff would just take it from them there at the jail.  Roy followed Ben around to the driver’s side and watched as he stepped up on board.

“Ben, I’ll just climb up in the back and ride with you over to your first stop,” Roy said, since he didn’t want the boy to watch his father trying to carry the dead man’s body into the undertaker’s office alone.

“I’ll move over, Sheriff Coffee.  You ain’t got to ride back there with –I mean – there’s room up here,” Joe insisted and moved closer to Pa.

Ben draped his arm around his son’s shoulder trying to calm him.  He nodded down to Roy to address what the boy had just said.  “Joe’s right, go ahead and climb up here and we’ll all ride over there together.

The three of them drove down the street and prepared to deliver the body of Calvin Moran to the mortician’s office.  Ben and Roy were quick about removing the dead man’s body from the wagon and handed it off to the undertaker.  Roy told Ben that he needed to make his rounds and that he would see both Cartwrights on Sunday at church.  He walked off as Ben continued down the street to the office of Doctor Paul Martin.

“Ben – Little Joe – surprised to see the two of you so early in the day.  Is it those tonsils again, Joe?” Paul smiled as he bid them into his waiting room.

Ben shook his head and then pointed to a chair.  “Joseph – you go sit down and I’ll be back soon.”

Joe nodded and sat down as he had been instructed.  He watched as his pa walked into the examining room with the doctor.

As Doctor Martin cleaned and bandaged Ben’s right wrist the worried father went to great lengths to explain all that had happened that morning.  By the time that Paul was done he understood why Ben seemed so worried about his son.

“I hate that it happened, Ben,” Doc paused and placed the roll of bandages back inside the supply cabinet.  “But I’m glad Little Joe kept his wits about him – or the two of you wouldn’t be here.”

“I know that Paul – but it’s really got Joseph shook.  I don’t think I’ve ever quite seen him this upset.  He thinks he did something wrong – though I’ve told him that he’s not in any trouble — and so did Roy.”

Paul sighed and sat down in the chair next to his friend.  “Well, it’s got to be traumatic for a boy Joe’s age to have killed a man.  It’s traumatic at any age – but he’s just a kid.  Give him some time to digest it all, Ben.  You know he saw his pa getting shot — and just that alone would scare any boy.”

Ben stood and nodded, “I guess you’re right, Paul.   Hopefully, once he thinks about it, he’ll come to understand that he did the right thing.”

“You going to drop him off at school?”

Shaking his head Ben said, “No – I’ll speak with his teacher after church and let her know what’s happened.  Joe was excited to get his history project done.  He worked very hard drawing a picture for his class.  But he can just turn it in on Monday, I guess.  I want to get him home and settled.”

Paul followed his patient out into the waiting room hoping to speak with Little Joe.

“Pa?” Joe called as he jumped from his seat.  “Pa – you gonna be okay?”

“Yes, Son – I just have a small nick.   Doc just cleaned and bandaged it for me,” Pa smiled and patted his son’s shoulder.

“Little Joe, your father tells me you finished a project for history class.  So, what did you do?” Paul asked, hoping to take the boy’s mind off what had happened.

“I –well I drew a picture of the Mayflower, Doc.”

Paul patted the boy’s head and grinned, “Why, Little Joe I had no idea you were an artist!”

Joe shook his head and looked up at the man and responded, “I’m not really an artist, Doc.   I just saw a picture of it in one of Pa’s books and just drew it from that.”

“Your pa said you did a good job.  I’m sure your teacher will say the same thing when you give it to her next week.”

Joe looked down at the floor thinking about how he had been so excited about showing it to the teacher that morning before everything had happened.  Now, he didn’t care about anything other than just going home.  “Yes, Sir,” Joe muttered.

“Well thanks again, Paul.   I guess we’ll see you in church Sunday,” Ben smiled and shook the man’s outstretched hand.

“Barring anyone coming down with an ailment that needs my attention – I’ll see you both then!”

“Goodbye, Doc,” Joe said as Pa drew the door open.

Paul patted Little Joe on the back, “You take care of yourself, Little Joe.”

************

The two Cartwrights walked to the buckboard and headed back to the ranch.  Pa pulled his son close to him.  He settled an arm across the boy’s shoulder, trying to offer him the security and comfort Ben knew Little Joe desperately needed.  Sitting there next to his father unmoving, Joe never uttered a sound the whole trip home.  Ben could tell that Joseph was still thinking about all that had happened that day.  His worried gaze fell on his son, hoping that once they got home, he could try to take the boy’s mind off the whole terrible ordeal.  Ben took a different path home, trying to steer clear of where Calvin Moran had been killed.

When they pulled up into the yard, Ben noticed that his older boys were home, and their mounts were tied up to the front hitching post.  He knew that he’d have to fill them in on the shooting.  Ben knew that he’d have to tell the story out of the earshot of their little brother.

“Joseph?  How about you go into the barn and give your horse a good grooming?  I know Cochise would appreciate it,” Ben coaxed the boy as he stepped out of the wagon. He watched as Little Joe slowly climbed down behind him.

“Yes, Sir,” Joe responded, his voice sounding very shaky.

Ben patted the boy’s back.  Waiting until he knew that Joseph had gone inside the barn, he reached inside the buckboard and pulled the boy’s drawing off the floor where he had left it ever since the shooting.  Ben sighed and shook his head.  The day had begun with such enthusiasm on Joe’s part only to have ended with such trauma done to him. Heading inside, Ben knew that he would have to have a long talk with Adam and Hoss to let them know that the boy was having a hard time dealing with what had transpired that day.  Together the family would close ranks and try to help Little Joe through the trauma of having killed Calvin Moran.

*************

“Pa?” Adam asked as he placed a hand on his father’s shoulder.  The man had been caught up in his memories for quite a while, and both of his sons hadn’t wanted to disturb him.

“What?” Ben asked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

“Hoss and I were asking you if it was alright for us to try and catch up with Sheriff Coffee?  Fletcher left for town a couple of hours ago and he told us that he was going to take Roy out to where Joe was gunned down.

Ben looked back and forth between his sons and frowned.  He was worried that Lucas Moran might just have stayed around to see whether Little Joe had died from his injuries.  Ben didn’t want to risk the lives of his other boys.

Hoss read the hesitancy in his father’s gaze.  He stood and approached him.  “Pa – we’ll be careful.”

“Alright, Boys.  But I want the two of you to keep your eyes out for Moran.  I’m not willing to have another son shot because of him.”

Hoss nodded and offered a reassuring pat to his father’s back.  “We will, Pa.”

“Yeah, we won’t be long.  We’ll come home just as soon as we talk to Roy.  You tell Little Joe we’ll be back to see him,” Adam smiled as he and Hoss walked to the credenza to get their hats and holsters.

“Just be extra careful,” Ben called to his sons as they left the house.

*************

“How is he?” Ben whispered as he approached Little Joe’s bed.

Hop Sing stood from the chair and stared at the worried father.  “He wake while ago, Mister Ben.  Hop Sing make drink Little Joe fall back sleep.”

Ben patted the cook’s back and nodded, “I’ll take it for now, Hop Sing.  You go and rest awhile.”

“I bring coffee in little while for you,” he smiled and quietly left the room.

Dropping his hand down onto his son’s forehead to detect a fever, Ben was relieved that the boy seemed to be cool at the present.  The minute that he settled down into the chair he saw Little Joe’s head moving back and forth on his pillow.

“Joseph?”

Doctor Martin had wrapped Joe’s left shoulder so tightly that the boy couldn’t lift his left arm though he had tried.  A low moan escaped his lips and then he opened his eyes.  Little Joe stared over at his father sitting in the chair next to his bed.

“Pa?” He said, confused by the concerned appearance on his father’s face.  “What happened?”

Ben leaned forward in the chair and rested a hand on the boy’s right arm.  “Easy, Boy, you’ve been in and out of it all night.”

Wincing his face as dull reality hit, he replied somberly, “Oh—Moran.”

“Yes, Joseph – Lucas Moran,” Ben nodded.

Little Joe rubbed at the bandages that encircled his stomach and frowned.

“Here,” Pa said and poured a glass of water and held it to his son’s lips.  Joe obliged and drank a few sips before waving the glass away.  “Doc’s had you on some strong pain medicine so I imagine you’re a bit foggy.  Do you think you could handle something easy on your stomach like some broth?”

Little Joe shook his head and replied, “Not just yet, Pa.  I’m feeling a little queasy right now – think I’d better wait.”

“How’s the pain, Son?”

“Not too bad.”

Ben cast a knowing smile and returned, “You had two bullets dug out of you yesterday – I imagine that you just don’t want to tell me how bad you’re hurting, right?”

Joe managed a slight grin and nodded.  “I’ll be okay.”

“Joseph, how about telling me what happened?”

Shaking his head as he let out a weary sigh, Joe finally stared at his father’s careworn face.  He didn’t really want to get into the details of what Moran had said and done but he could read the expectancy in his father’s gaze.

“I’d gotten halfway out to the Circle W when I noticed that Cochise had a loose shoe.  So, I doubled back to fix it.  I heard someone shout my name and I stopped and looked around,” Joe began his explanation and watched his father leaning forward in the chair hanging on to his every word.

“Go on, Son,” He coaxed the boy.

“He – well – he was up there on that little path two miles from the house – you know.  The same place where –,” Joe had to stop.  He closed his eyes and fought back the memory from three years ago.

When Joe’s eyes had opened back up, Ben noticed the unspent tears in them.  It had been several years since the two of them had spoken about the day that Little Joe had been forced to kill Calvin Moran.  Looking at him now, it was very evident that his son had never gotten over it.

“It’s alright, Son,” Ben whispered and softly stroked the boy’s arm trying to calm him.

“I don’t know how he found out about the way it happened, Pa – but he did.  He went on and on about how I had robbed him of having a father.  He said that his pa was planning on sending for him right before I – I killed him.”

“Oh, Joseph,” Ben sighed.  “Even if that was true—none of what happened was your fault.”

Little Joe mopped at his eyes with the palm of his right hand and tried to regroup his emotions before continuing.  When that didn’t happen, Ben offered him some more water which he accepted without speaking.

“What happened after that, Son?”

“He – he began calling me killer.  He said it over and over again.  He said it the same way that the kids at school used to say it right after the shooting.   I couldn’t take it, Pa,” Joe confessed, his voice coming out strained.

“You were never a killer – you’ve got to know that, Joseph!” Ben insisted ardently.

“He told me to reach for my gun – but I couldn’t do it, Pa.  I told him that I was sorry for shooting his father and that I wasn’t going to draw on him.  That’s when he got mad – and sent off the first shot at me.  I fell off Cochise.”

“Did the first bullet hit your shoulder or your stomach?”

“My shoulder, Pa.  I went down to the ground.”

Ben nodded and replied, “That’s why you weren’t able to get your gun out before he shot you again, right?”

Joe chewed at his bottom lip, guilt showing all over his face.  He had to look away from his father, figuring that Pa would be disappointed in him.

“Joseph?”

“I was knocked off to the left of my horse.  I could’ve gotten my gun out – even with this shoulder wound, Pa,” He confessed sullenly.

Ben reached over and redirected his son’s gaze, “Joseph – if you could’ve gotten to your gun then why on earth didn’t you?”

Tears slipped out of Joe’s eyes and coursed down his cheeks, so swept up in his guilt for having killed Calvin Moran.  “I – I killed his pa – I couldn’t shoot him too.”

“Oh, Joseph,” Ben responded sadly.  He shook his head feeling so distraught over what his son had just conveyed.  “He almost killed you.”

Wiping the tears from his face on the sleeve of his nightshirt, Joe whispered, “I couldn’t stop hearing “killer” in my head, Pa.”

In his son’s eyes, Ben witnessed the reflection of the fourteen-year-old boy who had suffered through the terrible taunts from the school children three years earlier.  He stood and maneuvered over to the head of the bed and sat down next to the boy.  Gingerly easing his son into his arms, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Joseph.”

“Pa – I just don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Joe’s voice broke as he buried his face in his father’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to.  Go back to sleep, Son,” Ben whispered and softly brushed his hand through Joe’s hair trying to calm him.  A few minutes later he felt the boy’s body go lax held there in his arms.  Ben stayed there on the bed for a long while worried over all that his son had told him.  When Joe’s breathing became a bit more even, he carefully eased him back against the mound of pillows.  Pulling the sheet and blanket over the boy’s shoulders, Ben swept his hand across his forehead and sighed.  ***They never should have called you that, Joseph.  Sometimes children can be so cruel. *** He thought to himself and then settled back in the chair.  It was then that the past played out in his mind, taking Ben back to the days and weeks after his son had killed Calvin Moran in self-defense.

************

“Joseph?” Ben called over to the boy in the bed.  He could see that his son was sitting up and, as he got closer, noticed the perspiration that dotted his face.  “Are you okay?”

Trying to catch his breath, Little Joe nodded as his father came closer.

“Another nightmare?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied sullenly, still attempting to control the shaking he had experienced ever since he had bolted up in bed.

Ben drew in a deep breath as he sat down in the chair opposite the boy.  “Was it the same one, Son?”

Looking down at the floor, he nodded solemnly.

“How about we talk about it?”

“I – I don’t want to, Pa.”

Ben reached over and placed a hand onto the boy’s face.  “Was it about the shooting, Joseph?”

“Yeah.”

“You know dreams are funny things,” Pa began, choosing his words carefully trying his best to ease his son’s fear.  “It’s like your mind tries to work out in your sleep everything that you’ve been worrying about.  But the nightmares will eventually go away.  I know that it’s been playing on you, Joseph.  You know anyone who’s ever had to fire a gun in self-defense feels the same way that you do, Son.  It might take a little while, but you’ll get past this,” He tried to cajole the boy as best he could.  Ben knew that his youngest had been plagued with nightmares his whole life and it didn’t take much to start them up again.

“It’s his eyes – Pa –,” Joe stopped in midsentence, almost afraid to tell his father what he had seen in his recurring dream.

“His eyes?  What about his eyes?” Ben coaxed the boy out with what he had alluded to.  He could read the terror all over Little Joe’s face and it worried him.

“They just stayed open— the whole time you were talking to Sheriff Coffee.  I – well – I tried not to look but I couldn’t help it.  Now I just keep seeing them in my dreams, Pa.”
Trying to decide the best way to handle the situation, Ben paused and mulled it over a bit before speaking.

“Joseph, it’s only been two days – it’ll go away.”

“But he just keeps looking at me!” Joe exclaimed breathlessly and then abruptly hopped down from his bed.  “It scares me, Pa.  What if he really wasn’t dead?”

Ben stood and followed the boy across the room to where he now stood at his window peering out.

“Joseph, he was dead.  Sometimes – well – eyes don’t always close after someone dies.  I checked his pulse and he was examined when I got him inside the undertakers too.  On top of all that Doctor Martin had to officially pronounce him dead, and he did that shortly after we left town.”

Little Joe dropped his head down to his chest and whispered, “I was hoping that I really didn’t kill him, Pa.”

Pulling his son to his chest, Ben combed his fingers through the boy’s hair and replied softly, “Joseph, you did the only thing you could’ve done to save the two of us.  You shouldn’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Will I ever forget, Pa?”

Drawing in a deep breath, the worried father chose his words carefully again.  “Son, you may not forget but it will get easier.  In time you’ll come to understand that you did the right thing.”
“I hope so, Pa.”

“Now, how about trying to get some sleep?” Ben offered a reassuring smile as he pulled the boy’s chin up so he could look directly into his eyes.

“Okay—I’ll try,” Joe returned, attempting to sound more in control of himself than he was at the time.  Walking over to his bed and climbing back into it, he whispered, “I’m sorry I woke you, Pa.”

Ben pulled the sheet and blanket up around the boy’s shoulders and replied, “Nonsense, I’ll be back to sleep the minute my head hits the pillow.  Now you go close those eyes and have some good dreams this time.”

“Goodnight, Pa.”

Ruffling a hand through the boy’s curls, Ben nodded and returned, “Goodnight, Joseph.”

**************

The next day the four Cartwrights were seated in their usual church pew listening intently to the interim pastor as he began his sermon.  The regular preacher, Philip Hastings, had been called away due to an illness in his family.  His temporary replacement was Pastor Dennis Whaley; a true Bible thumper if there ever was one.

“It is said that the wages of sin is death,” Pastor Whaley very loudly launched into his sermon.  “And I’ve been to many towns here in the West where one of the worst of those sins happens to run rampant; murder.  Now I don’t have to tell any of you that the good book says that thou shalt not kill.  Mining town after mining town murder is an everyday event, and a man’s life means very little anymore!”

Seated to his father’s immediate right, Little Joe shifted nervously in the pew and directed his gaze to the floor.  Pa had noticed the boy’s uneasiness and cast a quick glance back and forth between Adam, who was seated to Little Joe’s right, and Hoss, who was seated on his father’s left.  Both brothers worried about where the preacher was going with his sermon due to what their little brother had just gone through two days prior.

“God will punish all of those who kill!  You can’t escape judgement if you’ve taken a life!” Pastor Whaley thundered.

Little Joe leaned over and, cupping his right hand over his father’s ear, whispered, “Pa, I’m not feeling too good can I go outside and get some air?”

Ben nodded and then nudged Hoss’ arm.  “Go on outside with Joseph, Hoss.”

Noticing the familiar worried appearance on his father’s face, Hoss stood from the pew.

Little Joe waited as Pa pulled his legs in some so he could ease out in front of him and then joined Hoss in the aisle.  The two of them quietly exited the church.

“It was like he could see it on my face, Hoss,” Little Joe explained the minute they had made it down the church steps.

Hoss slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder and directed him to a bench that sat just to the right side of the church.

“Naw, Little Brother, he wasn’t talking about you at all.  You know these kinds of preachers always talk about the ten commandments.  Maybe that’s the only part of the Bible that they can remember?” He kidded and patted his brother’s shoulder trying to put him at ease.

“But he looked directly at me, Hoss!  I think somebody must’ve told him what I did.”

“Come on, Little Joe, you didn’t commit murder,” Hoss insisted.

“I killed a man, how’s that not committing murder?” Joe’s eyes pleaded with his brother for an answer to his question.

Frowning, Hoss tried again.  “If you just up and kill someone for no reason then that’s murder.  Or if’n you kill someone while you’re robbing them – well that’s murder too.  But what you done was try to keep our pa and you alive.  That ain’t murder, Little Joe.”

“But he’s still just as dead,” Joe countered shaking his head.

“Little Joe, if you hadn’t done what you did then you and Pa would be dead.  Now do you understand?”

Joe frowned and shook his head again.  “I killed a man.  I still say that preacher was looking right at me.  Maybe I’ve got what they always talk about– you know?  Maybe I’ve got the mark of Cain?”

Hoss groaned over his inability to get through to the boy.  He gently pulled his brother closer to him before responding.  “Short Shanks, Cain was bad and you aren’t.  The only sin you’ve got against you is when you cheat me at checkers!” He attempted to make his little brother smile; it hadn’t worked.  The boy was still staring at him like he had all the answers, which left Hoss feeling at a loss.  Pa was always the one with all the wisdom, not him.

“Hoss, I’m serious,” Little Joe protested.  “That preacher said the wages for sin is death.  You think God’s gonna kill me for killing Moran?”

Hoss heard the door to the church opening and was relieved to see both Adam and Pa coming down the steps.  He figured it had been a short sermon for which he was very thankful.  He felt way out of his league as far as being able to get through to Little Joe the way their pa always managed to do.

“Little Brother, God ain’t gonna punish you for self-defense.  Now come on let’s go and get to the surrey, okay?”

The four Cartwrights walked down the street and over to where they had left their surrey.  Before untying the reins of the rig, Hoss motioned his father over to him while Little Joe and Adam climbed inside.

“Pa — you’d better have a look at this harness, it might need some fixing,” Hoss said loud enough for both of his brothers to hear.  It was then that he nodded to his father, giving him the subtle sign that he needed to speak with him.

“What is it, Hoss?” Ben returned, his voice purposely lowered so Joe wouldn’t be privy to their conversation.

“It’s Little Joe, Pa,” Hoss began in a whisper as he messed with the harness which was in perfect condition just as his father had suspected.  “What that preacher was yelling about – well – it’s got the boy all upset.  He was saying that he’s got the mark of Cain on him or some such foolishness.  I tried my best to tell him that he didn’t – but well – I thought I’d better let you know.”

Ben frowned and glanced towards the surrey where Adam was trying his best to distract Little Joe.  “I was afraid of that.  I’m glad the two of you left when you did because it got a lot worse.  And on top of that, when I was leaving his teacher, Mrs. Gower, pulled me aside. She asked me about what happened on Friday and why the boy had missed school that day.  I know it’s all over town by now, but I think she just wanted to hear it directly from me.”

“What’d you tell her, Pa?”

“I told her that I would discuss it with her Monday when I drop Little Joe off.  I didn’t think it was a good idea to talk about it there in church.  The rumor mill doesn’t need any more fodder for gossip.”

“Good,” Hoss nodded.  “We’d better get inside the surrey.  Joe’s gonna suspect something if we stay out here too long.”

“Thanks, Hoss,” Ben whispered and patted his back before turning around.  He walked over to his other sons and got into the back seat so he could sit next to Little Joe.

“Nothing’s wrong with that harness,” Joe announced and stared up at his father.  “Hoss was just telling you about what I said to him.”

“Now just who made you a harness expert?” Adam interjected, turning around in his seat next to Hoss.

“I ain’t a harness expert,” Little Joe fussed.  “But I know that if folks are whispering that they’re trying to keep something secret.  And Pa and Hoss were whispering.”

“That’s enough, Young Man,” Ben tried to calm the boy.  “Let’s get on home.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hoss nodded and clapped the reins sending the team of horses into motion.

“That old preacher said people who murder folks die, Pa,” Joe continued.  “And he was staring right at me when he said it too!”
“Joseph, you didn’t commit murder.”

“I killed someone,” Joe frowned.  “He said thou shalt not kill.  I did that, Pa.”
Ben wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulder and tried again.  “Son, like both Sheriff Coffee and I told you – what you did is called self-defense.  And if you hadn’t done that there would be two less people in this surrey right now.”

“You really don’t think he was talking about me, Pa?” Joe questioned in total disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Well, he sure was looking at me though,” Joe insisted and then grew quiet.

Clearing his throat, Ben decided to change the subject.  “I spoke with Mrs. Gower and she’s really looking forward to seeing your history project.”

“She’s going to be surprised, Little Joe,” Adam complimented his brother, hoping to assist his father.  “You sure did a great job drawing the Mayflower.”

“Thanks,” Joe responded though there wasn’t any enthusiasm in his voice unlike three days ago when he had gotten it ready for school.

“Yeah, Short Shanks, I never knew you could draw that good.  It was downright professional!” Hoss jumped into the conversation.

“I wish I had ridden Cochise Friday then none of this would’ve happened.  It was only because of that stupid drawing that I asked you to take me in the buckboard, Pa.”

Ben reached down and took a hold of the boy’s chin to direct his gaze.  He stared into the troubled hazel eyes and said, “Joseph, if you had ridden your horse and not gone with me in the buckboard, I would probably be dead now.  That man shot the gun out of my hand, remember?  Without you there to protect me well – most likely I wouldn’t be here with you, Son.”

“Pa’s right, Little Joe,” Adam agreed.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” Joe said remorsefully and dropped his head back down.  “I didn’t mean it like it came out.  I’m glad that I was able to keep you from getting hurt any worse than you were, Pa.  I was just saying that I didn’t want to kill nobody.”

“We all know that, Son.  And we all can appreciate the fact that it’s a hard thing to live through,” Ben commiserated with the boy as he hugged him closely.

Feeling overwhelmed by everything that had happened in church, Little Joe returned quietly, “Pa, — I think I’ll just try to sleep the rest of the way home.  I had too many nightmares last night so I’m kind of tired.”

Ben watched as the boy forced his eyes closed.  He knew that the kid was having a rough time and the preacher hadn’t helped the situation any.  Little Joe turned his face into his father’s shoulder.  “That’s fine, you go on and try to take a little nap, Joseph,” he whispered and wrapped an arm around the boy.

Ben exchanged worried glances with both Hoss and Adam.  Each man knew what it was like to have taken a life as they had all experienced that very thing in the past.  And to have gone through killing a man at the tender age of fourteen made it just that much more difficult for Little Joe to process and try to get over.

*************

Ben made his way out of the kitchen carrying a cup of beef broth that Hop Sing had prepared for Little Joe when the front door opened.  He turned to see both Adam and Hoss walking inside.

“Glad to see you two are alright,” he said sighing with relief.  “Any luck?”

Adam removed his holster and put his hat on the rack and Hoss followed suit.

“We wuz doing good, Pa, until it looked like Moran might’ve changed horses,” Hoss began.  “Must’ve either stolen another mount or had one hid out.”

“Yeah, Roy had three other men with him, and we split up but no luck finding Moran,” Adam frowned.

Ben thought about the situation and then his attention was directed to the top of the stairs where he saw Hop Sing.

“Is Joe okay?” he asked the cook as he made his way down to the first landing.

Hop Sing nodded, “Boy okay, just come to see if broth ready.”

“I was just bringing it up.”

“Hey, Pa – let me and Adam take it up to Little Joe,” Hoss jumped in and reached for the mug in his father’s hand.

“Yeah, why don’t you go and get some rest?” Adam offered.  “I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night, Pa.”

“I’m fine.  Hop Sing watched your brother so I got a good long nap this afternoon.  But, if you boys want to go and see your brother then maybe you can coax him into drinking this all up,” He handed the broth to Hoss.

Laughing, Hoss returned, “If he won’t I will.  Dad gum it, Hop Sing, the only time I get good beef broth is when I’m sick!”

Hop Sing indignantly put his nose in the air and said, “You like broth then Hop Sing go put up roast I cook today!”

“Wait just a second,” Hoss insisted and reached for the cook’s arm.  “I like your beef broth just fine but ain’t nothing better than one of your roasts!”

“You wait two hour you have roast,” Hop Sing grinned and walked to the kitchen.

“Now that we’ve got that situation resolved,” Ben paused and patted Hoss’ shoulder.  “Go and make sure that your brother drinks that broth.”

Adam and Hoss turned for the stairs to see how their brother was doing.

By the time Ben had settled down in his chair next to the fireplace Hop Sing had come into the living room and placed a cup of coffee into his hand and turned back into the kitchen.  He slowly sipped at it as his thoughts went back to what had happened to Little Joe three years earlier.

*************

“Please, Pa,” Little Joe pleaded with his father.  “I don’t want to ride in the buckboard!”

Ben shot a perplexed look around the dining table at Adam and Hoss.  The youngster was getting louder with his protests.  Little Joe had been insisting that his father not take him to school that Monday.

“Joseph, settle down now.  I’ve got business in town later today.   I just thought that you and I could ride to school together.  Your teacher wanted to talk to me.”

“I don’t even want to go to school,” Joe complained and turned his face away from his father’s questioning eyes.

Bewildered by Joe’s behavior, Ben tried to figure out what he could say to ease the boy’s mind.  “Son, are you worried that something bad might happen again if you ride with me in the buckboard?” He asked softly.

“I just want to ride Cochise,” Little Joe mumbled never looking up at his pa.

Fear was very evident on the boy’s face no matter what he had said.  They could all tell that Little Joe had been dwelling on what had happened three days ago.

“Alright,” Ben sighed in defeat, not wanting to argue with the boy that morning.  He had been worried that Joe would try to skip school if he pressed him too much on how he was going to get there.  “Young Man, I will be expecting you to come right home just as soon as school is dismissed.  Understood?”

Little Joe jumped from his chair and answered, “Yes, Pa.  Thanks – I’ve got to go saddle my horse!”

“Don’t you forget your project!” Ben sang out as the boy hurriedly headed to the front door.

“Okay – bye!” Joe called from the next room and then ran outside.

“Well,” Ben began as he looked at his two sons.  “He’s having a rough go of it so it’s probably just as well that he rides to school today.”

“I agree,” Adam nodded.

“Yeah, Pa – for a minute I was sure that Little Joe was gonna start bawling.  He’s still pretty shook about that shooting.   You done the best thing you could’ve done to get him to go to school.  Maybe once he’s around his friends it’ll take his mind off some of his troubles,” Hoss interjected.

Ben wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood.  “I hope so, Hoss.  Well, I guess I’d better get ready too.  I’ve got to go speak to his teacher before class starts.  I’ll see you two later this afternoon.”

“We’ll be helping with the branding today, Pa.”

“Okay, Adam, maybe I’ll stop by and help you both when I make it back,” Ben returned and headed into his study to get the deposit that he needed to drop off at the bank.

*************

Little Joe had arrived at school early enough to see his father going inside to speak with his teacher before she came outside and rang the bell.  He waved to Pa as he was leaving and then walked into the schoolhouse with the other children.  The rest of the day hadn’t gone so well.  During lunch a few of his friends began to ask him all kinds of questions about the shooting.  Little Joe tried his best to change the subject, but the boys only grew more persistent.

“Come on, Little Joe!” Mark exclaimed and moved closer to the boy.  “Tell us what it was like to grab your pa’s gun and blast that man to kingdom come!”

“Just cut it out.  I told you I don’t want to talk about it,” Joe returned growing angrier.

A new student, Jimmy Drayton, who had only been in the area for a few weeks swaggered over to Joe.  He was a good six inches taller than him and a year older.  “Why didn’t your pa shoot the guy?”

“Because his pa got shot,” Joe’s friend Mitch Devlin jumped in to try and help.

“Don’t even bother, Mitch,” Little Joe insisted.

“Oh?  Is Big Ben Cartwright a chicken?  He needed a boy to do his shooting for him, huh?” Jimmy laughed.

Little Joe jumped up from where he had been sitting cross legged on the ground.  He readied to throw a punch at the other boy.  “You’d better keep my pa’s name out of your filthy mouth, Jimmy!”

“Whatcha gonna do about it, Cartwright?  Are you gonna shoot me too?” Jimmy fired back grinning.

Little Joe looked around at the other boys and a few girls who had heard the loud commotion of a fight brewing and began to draw closer to them.

“Just leave me alone before I have to mop the ground with you,” Little Joe warned.

“I don’t think you can do that unless you have a gun,” Jimmy sneered at Joe.

“I don’t need a gun to take care of you!”

Jimmy looked around at the other kids and winked over at a few of the boys who he had befriended.  “Killer – killer – killer!” He shouted and pointed at Little Joe.

That was when the other children, both older and younger, began to join in.  At least half of the kids began to chant “killer” until the teacher appeared on the steps.  She rang the bell and then everyone headed back inside leaving Little Joe standing alone next to a tree.  He didn’t want to go inside the schoolhouse.  All he wanted was to get on his horse and ride away.

“Joseph Cartwright!” The teacher sang out.  “If you don’t get in here right now, I’ll be sending a note home to your father.  Now get in here!”

Shaking his head and feeling lower than he had prior to arriving that morning, Little Joe begrudgingly walked into the schoolhouse.

**************

For three straight days Little Joe had dealt with the kids at school calling him killer.  And for those same three days he had kept it all from his father and brothers.  He wanted to fight everyone who called him “killer” but there were too many of them.  It was bad enough that Jimmy and kids his age were chiding him with that nickname.  But by the third day kids of all ages, both boys and girls, were all taunting him and singing out ‘killer” at every opportunity.  They always made sure that the teacher wasn’t around to hear it, so Mrs. Gower had no idea what Little Joe Cartwright was going through.

Ben and his other sons all noticed the difference in Little Joe’s behavior every afternoon when he got home from school.  The boy seemed withdrawn and hardly spoke to anyone.  They chalked it up to him still being upset over the shooting and thought that he would eventually shake himself out of it.  But by Thursday Pa knew that he had to say something.

“Joseph, I need to speak to you in my study,” Ben announced cryptically as he stood from the dining table.

Little Joe looked down at his dinner plate.  He hadn’t eaten more than a couple of bites of supper that night.  Now he reasoned that his father was going to get after him about the way he hadn’t been eating lately.  He stood from his chair and followed Pa into the next room.

“Have a seat, Young Man,” Ben pointed to the chair to his left as he sat down at his desk and looked over at his son.

“What did I do?” Little Joe asked sullenly, avoiding his father’s eyes.

Reaching into his vest pocket, Ben pulled out a piece of paper.  “Mrs. Gower ran into Hoss in town and handed him this letter.  She mentions in here that she already sent a note home with you yesterday to give me, but it never made it into my hands.”

Little Joe just hung his head and didn’t reply.

“Joseph, I want you to look at me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Joe mumbled and lifted his head.

“What did you do with the note your teacher sent home with you yesterday?”

“I tore it up, Pa,” he confessed quietly.

Drawing in a deep breath, Ben stood from his chair and moved over to the front of his desk where he towered over the boy.

“Why did you do that?”

Little Joe just shrugged his shoulders.

Ben reached down and lifted his son’s chin so he could direct his gaze.  “A shrug isn’t an answer.  Now why did you rip the note up, Joseph?”

“I don’t know,” he lied, not knowing anything else to say in reply.

Ben groaned in frustration and then held up the letter that Hoss had brought home.  “Mrs. Gower said that you never turned in your history assignment.  Joseph, Monday I specifically told you to take it to school.  Why didn’t you turn it in?”

“It got messed up, Pa,” Joe answered softly.

Folding his arms across his chest and frowning, Ben continued.  “What do you mean it got messed up?  Don’t make me pull this out of you one word at a time.  Just tell me what happened!”

“It just got messed up that’s all!” Joe insisted, raising his voice in frustration.

“Don’t use that tone with me, Young Man,” Ben warned.  He turned his attention to the front of his desk and opened the drawer.  “Hop Sing was going to burn the trash today.  He found something in the burn barrel,” he said and held up the picture his son had drawn for his history class.  He walked over to the boy and handed it to him.

Little Joe stared at the picture and then looked sadly up at his father.

“It doesn’t look very messed up to me, Joseph.  It’s been folded a few times, but I think you can smooth it out and then turn it in to Mrs. Gower tomorrow.”

Little Joe jumped out of his chair and ripped the picture into several pieces and threw them onto the floor.  Ben stood there stunned.  He watched as the boy bolted to the staircase and ran up to his room.

*** What in the world is going on with you, Joseph? *** Ben thought to himself as he tried to recoup from witnessing what the boy had just done.

************

Little Joe sprawled out on his bed with his face buried in his pillow as his father walked into the room.

“Joseph,” Ben called softly as he approached the bed.  He could see that the boy was beside himself with a world full of trouble on his shoulders.  Easing down on the bed next to his son, Ben gently placed his hand on the boy’s back.  “I want you to roll over and look at me.”

“Punish me if you want to, Pa, I don’t care,” Little Joe choked out, fighting tears.  Joe was the picture of pure misery, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I picked up the pieces of your drawing, Son, they’re here in my hand.  I want you to tell me why you ripped it up.”

“It was messed up – I told you that already, Pa.”

Ben reached down and forced the boy to roll over.  “What was messed up about it?”

Pulling himself up on the bed, Little Joe reached for the pieces of paper in his father’s hand.  He spread them out on his comforter and then pointed at one of the corner pieces.

Ben reached for the torn piece of paper and studied it.  “I don’t understand, Joseph.  You’re just going to have to tell me.”

Little Joe pointed to the top right corner of the paper and then stared into his father’s eyes.  It was then that tears began to roll down his cheeks.   “It’s your blood, Pa,” He whimpered.

Stark realization hit Ben right between the eyes.  Little Joe’s drawing had been on the floor of the buckboard.  Ben now realized that when Calvin Moran shot him in the wrist that some of his blood had dripped down onto his son’s history project.  It didn’t look like much to Ben, but to the boy who had witnessed his father getting shot, it seemed like volumes.  The blood was there on the drawing as a frightening reminder to Little Joe of how he had almost witnessed his father getting killed right in front of his eyes.

“Come here, Son,” Ben whispered and held his arms out to the boy.

Hesitating at first, Little Joe mopped the tears off on his shirtsleeve and then moved closer to his pa.  Ben reached down and swept the boy up into his arms and held on tightly.  He imagined how hard it must have been for Little Joe to hide the reason that he hadn’t turned in his assignment from his pa.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t understand, Joseph,” Ben apologized and gently stroked his son’s curls attempting to comfort him.

“I thought he was gonna kill you, Pa.  And – when I saw you get shot –,” Little Joe couldn’t continue.

“I know that it had to scare you, Son.  It sure scared me,” he responded, hoping that it would help the boy to know that it was okay to admit to being frightened.

“I didn’t want to turn my drawing in.  I couldn’t get over seeing your blood on it, Pa.  Looking at it reminded me that you almost got killed.  And it also reminded me that I killed that man.”

“You’ve had a lot on your shoulders, Boy.  I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that.  But it will get better, Joseph,” he tried to sound convincing as he closed his eyes and prayed that his son would somehow get over the shooting.  Afterall, Joseph was only fourteen years old, just a kid.  It was easy to see that the whole awful event had been eating at the boy’s insides every single day.

Little Joe wanted to tell his father all that had been going on at school.  He wanted to tell him that the kids were all calling him killer and it hurt.  But he just couldn’t.  He hadn’t been able to tell Pa that his project had his blood on it.  Just talking about the shooting made him feel physically ill and enduring the cruelty at the hands of the school children was growing more painful every day.

“I – I wish it never happened, Pa – I want it to all go away,” Joe’s voice broke as he tried to explain how he felt.  He knew that he’d never be able to tell Pa everything, though he wished that he could.

“I understand, Joseph,” Ben whispered and fought to figure out what he could say or do that might help.  He kept drawing a blank.  All he could do at that moment was to just hold the boy in his arms and pray that Little Joe could get over the trauma.  “I’ll explain it to your teacher.  We’ll come up with something else you can do for a history project, okay?”

“I don’t ever want to go to school again, Pa.  I hate it there.”

Pulling his son back, Ben stared into the sad eyes of the boy and asked, “What’s going on?  You’ve never been this adamant about not liking school before.  Has the teacher been getting after you, Joseph?”

“I just don’t like school, Pa,” Little Joe knew he couldn’t talk about what was happening with the other children.  He was going to have to find a way out of the situation himself.  Joe had been hoping that the kids would tire of their taunts soon and leave him alone.

“You only have two more years, Son.  Then you’ll be working this ranch just like Hoss, Adam and me.”

Little Joe frowned, “I know – but two years is a long time, Pa.”

“It’ll be okay – you’ll see.  I’ll write a note to Mrs. Gower tonight and we’ll get all of this resolved. Will that help some?”

“Yeah – I guess,” Joe returned sullenly.  He didn’t think his father would allow him to leave school, which meant he’d just have to somehow get through the rough time he was having.  He prayed that the kids would soon tire of their taunts and leave him alone.

“Now, how about you go wash up and try to get some sleep?”

Little Joe nodded as his father stood up from the bed.  Ben reached down and lifted his son’s chin so he could look into the boy’s eyes.

“Joseph, I want you to come to me if you have any problems.  Don’t hide things from me so I’ll know how to help you.  Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Placing a hand on the back of his son’s head, Ben leaned down and kissed his forehead.  “Now no more worrying about school.  Everything will be alright.  Goodnight, Son.”

“Goodnight, Pa,” Little Joe nodded and watched as his father left the room.  He wished that his pa would be proven to be right and that everything would work out, but he didn’t believe it.

*************

“Little Joe, you done a good job with that broth.  You want some more?” Hoss asked as he set the cup back on the nightstand.

Joe shook his head, “I’ve had enough for now, Big Brother.  Why don’t you and Adam go and get some supper?  I’m sure Hop Sing made you something better than broth.”

“Yeah, better not tell Little Joe what we’re having, Hoss,” Adam teased.  “He won’t appreciate it.”

“I know already – Hop Sing’s making a roast.  I might have a couple of bullet holes in me, but my nose still works just fine, Adam,” Joe replied and watched as his father entered the room.

“Well now how is our patient?” Pa asked cheerily.

“He drank up all the broth, Pa,” Hoss announced and stood from the chair to offer it to his father.

“Good.  How about some more pain medication, Joseph?  You’re about an hour overdue for some.”

Little Joe shook his head and glanced over at his brothers.  “So – what happened today?  Everyone’s doing a good job talking about food and medicine.  How about telling me if anyone found Lucas Moran?”

Hoss and Adam both glanced over at their father and tried to gauge his reaction to Joe’s question, so they’d know what to say.

“There’s nothing that you need to concern yourself with right now, Young Man, other than getting better,” Ben insisted.

“I guess that means you didn’t find him,” Joe frowned and attempted to pull himself higher in the bed, but he couldn’t manage it due to his left shoulder being wrapped too tightly.

“Just lie still.  Doc doesn’t want you to move around and disturb all those sutures he just put in you, Joseph,” Ben warned and placed his hand down on the boy’s right shoulder to keep him still.

“It’s bad enough that I’ve got to stay in this bed at least you can all tell me what’s going on!” he fussed.

“Well, Pa – he must be feeling better,” Adam began and chuckled.  “He’s got that temper of his back!”

“Hey, Joe, if you ain’t gonna take the pain medicine maybe you should let Pa have some?  He probably needs it after dealing with you all night and all day!” Hoss joined in on the ribbing in true brotherly fashion.

Ben frowned and shot both of his older boy’s a warning gaze. “No, I’m not the one who’s going to be taking this medicine,” he began and poured a full tablespoon of the laudanum.  “Here you go, Young Man,” Ben brought the spoon to the boy’s lips, and he wasn’t going to wait for Joe’s approval.

Frowning, Joe gave up and swallowed the medicine.  He settled his head back on the pillow and stared at his pa.

“I believe that will keep you quiet for a couple of hours, Joseph.  And that’s exactly what Paul said you needed; rest!”

“So, you didn’t find Moran?” Little Joe wasn’t about to give up yet.  He wanted some answers.

“No, Kid.  His trail went cold on us.  But Roy still has some men out with him trying to pick up his tracks again.  Don’t worry – we’ll get him,” Adam nodded over to his little brother.

“Boys, go on and get cleaned up it’s about time for supper.”

“We’ll see you later, Little Joe,” Hoss grinned and patted his brother’s arm.

“Yeah, Joe – you get some sleep,” Adam called across the room as he walked to the door.

Little Joe smiled at both of his brothers as they turned out of the bedroom.

“Now as for you, Young Man,” Ben said sternly, though Joe could read through his father’s clever façade.  “I want you to relax and close those eyes.”

“I hope he just keeps running – maybe back to wherever he came from.  I don’t want to ever see him again.  I never want to hear the name Moran, Pa,” Joe whispered as his eyelids grew heavy.

Ben held his son’s hand in his as the boy fell back to sleep.  “I know, Son – I know.”

Leaning back in the chair Ben recalled what had happened once the bullying at school had gotten worse.  It was no wonder that Little Joe had frozen up when Lucas Moran had called him “killer”.  Sighing deeply, his thoughts went back to what had happened to his son due to the taunts of the schoolchildren.

*************

Little Joe halfway fell from Cochise as he attempted to dismount behind the barn.  He had survived four days of bullying at school. But it was Friday, and when the older boys had ramped up their taunts that afternoon, everything had gone from bad to worse.  Joe didn’t want anyone to see him bloodied and battered.  He prayed that his father and brothers hadn’t gotten back from where they were rounding up strays earlier that day.  Holding his right hand over his stomach he pulled Cochise behind him and made it into the barn.  He removed the saddle and bridle and made sure that there was plenty of grain set out for his horse before he headed back into the yard.  Little Joe made it as far as the watering trough before the pain became so overwhelming that he fell to his knees.  He cupped his right hand into the water and threw it over his face trying to revive himself and wash some of the blood off.

“Little Joe!” Hop Sing cried out.  He had just gone outside to get some wood for the stove when he spotted the boy kneeling there on the ground.  Hop Sing ran over to help him.  “Little Joe – you hurt!”

Joe coughed into his fist and tried to get to his feet again.  “I – I’m okay.  Just give me a minute to wash off some, Hop Sing.”

The cook reached down for the boy’s left arm and pulled him to his feet.  “You no wash here you wash inside.”

“Gotta wash here first – I’ve got blood all over my face,” Joe protested and dipped a hand into the watering trough again.

“Who hurt my boy?” Hop Sing demanded.  As far as he was concerned Little Joe was as much his as he was Ben Cartwright’s.  Hop Sing had helped raise the boy from an infant and he felt he deserved partial credit as a surrogate father.

Little Joe tried to grin, but he had a split lip, and the slight movement caused it to bleed again.  “Your boy is fine, Hop Sing.  Just have some cuts and bruises.  It isn’t the first time.”

“You come now!” Hop Sing shouted and pulled the boy across the yard by his arm and into the kitchen.

Little Joe had to catch his breath after the long jaunt into the house.  He gingerly eased himself down into one of the kitchen chairs.  It was then that he heard that very old familiar sound.  Hop Sing sent out a very loud and very long string of Chinese chastisements.  Little Joe wasn’t sure if they were all directed at him or whether Hop Sing was fussing at whoever had hurt him.

“You drink!” Hop Sing insisted and shoved a cup of some kind of tea into his hand.  Joe often wondered how the cook always seemed to have some kind of a remedy heating up on the stove just in time for any emergency.

Little Joe drank the tea so he wouldn’t incur the man’s wrath.  He hoped that it would stay down as at that particular moment he thought that he was going to throw up.

“What matter?  You stomach?”

“Yeah—my stomach—my nose – my chin – you name it,” Little Joe sighed and then froze in his chair when he heard the front door opening.   “Oh no,” He groaned.  A minute later Pa’s voice rang out.  “Can you hide me somewhere, Hop Sing?” Joe pleaded, turning his sad hazel eyes on his old friend.

“No can do, Little Joe,” Hop Sing said as he witnessed his boss entering the kitchen.

“Hop Sing – I was just going to –” Ben stopped in mid-sentence when he spied his battered youngest in the chair.

“Joseph!” He gasped and reached for his son.  “What happened to you?”

“Our boy hurt,” Hop Sing addressed the man and nodded his head.

Ben frowned and shook his head highly irritated.  “OUR boy can speak for himself, can’t you, Joseph?”

Avoiding his father’s gaze while trying to think of a good believable lie to tell him, he replied, “Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I — well I fell, Pa.  I was riding too fast – I’m sorry.  I know I’m not supposed to race my horse.  But I did and I fell off Cochise,” Little Joe explained trying to sound sincere. He hoped that his father wouldn’t look too deeply into his eyes, or he’d know that what he had just told him was a lie that wasn’t based on one shred of truth.

Ben stared pensively at the cook and watched as Hop Sing shook his head.  “That’s right.  You don’t believe Little Joe’s story either do you?” Pa asked.

“Our boy not tell truth.  You talk to boy– Hop Sing have work to do,” he returned gruffly and turned back to the stove.  If Ben had stayed away longer, Hop Sing would have done everything in his power to help Little Joe get out of the trouble that he was in.  However, when Ben had come home unexpectedly, that’s when he had to turn it all over to the boy’s biological father.  He had done all that he could do as the surrogate for the time being.

Ben placed a hand on Little Joe’s face and examined the boy’s cuts and bruises.  He just shook his head in disgust.  “Can you stand, Boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Can you walk, Joseph?”

“Yes, Sir,” He repeated.

“Now, do you want to walk to your room and get cleaned up?  Or do you want to walk to the barn for a tanning due to that lie that you just told me?” Ben questioned filled with irony in his tone of voice.  He raised his eyebrows in gesture so the boy would know that he hadn’t believed one word that he had told him.

Joe winced his face and then directed his attention to the floor, still avoiding his father’s eyes.  “Um –I’d rather go to my room and get cleaned up, Pa,” He returned quietly, knowing that he was in for a very stern lecture at the very least.

Ben reached for the boy’s left elbow and pulled him to standing.  “Let’s go,” he directed firmly and helped his son make the trek through the house and up the stairs.

*************

“Stand right there,” Ben commanded and, walking to his son’s bureau, he drew out a nightshirt.  He walked back over to Joe and handed it to him.  The boy held it in his hand and watched as his pa moved to the washstand and poured some fresh water into the basin.

“First, I want you to make good use of this soap and water, Young Man.  Clean yourself up good.  Then you put that nightshirt on and crawl into bed.  I’ll check you over once you accomplish all that,” He paused and took a good look at his son’s tattered clothes.  “Your shirt’s torn and about half of the buttons are missing.  My that must’ve been a terrible fall from your horse!” He announced sarcastically.  Pa watched as Little Joe dropped his head down, knowing that his lie hadn’t gone over very well.  “I wasn’t aware that there was any cactus on the Ponderosa – but obviously I was wrong.  Isn’t that how your shirt got torn, Joseph?  When you fell from your horse you must’ve landed right on top of an enormous cactus, right?” He questioned, his eyebrows knitting themselves together as he looked scathingly at his son because of the lie he had told him.

“Not exactly, Pa,” Joe muttered never looking up at his father.

Folding his arms across his chest, Ben continued, “I guess you found someone to put Cochise out of her misery after taking a fall like that.  Am I right?”

Little Joe shook his head, “No, Sir – she didn’t fall – just me.”

“I see – still sticking to that story huh?”

The boy just stood there and didn’t answer because he knew that he’d only be digging a deeper hole for himself with his pa.

“Joseph – do you really think that I believe any of that malarky you told me downstairs?” He continued and this time he lifted the boy’s chin into his hand.

Joe just shrugged his shoulders because he knew he couldn’t tell Pa the truth.

“I have three sons and every last one of them have been in fist fights.  And every last one of them have had the same kinds of cuts and bruises on their faces that you have on yours now.”

“I guess I’d better get cleaned up, Pa,” Joe whispered.

Drawing in a long-exasperated breath, Ben shook his head and let go of the boy’s face.  “Alright you do that.  I’ll be back up here in a few minutes.  Then you and I are going to have a very long talk about the differences between falls from horses and fist fights,” he warned sternly and turned out of the room.

*************

Ben took some time to get his temper into check before venturing back up the stairs to talk to his son.  He had poured himself a small shot of brandy to calm his nerves while Hop Sing went about shaving some ice for him to take upstairs for Little Joe.  Sitting down in the chair behind his desk Ben mulled over the situation while he sipped his drink.  He realized that Joseph had been going through a very rough time ever since the shooting the previous Friday.  But he couldn’t let him off the hook when it came to lying.  The boy had been keeping a lot of his worries buried deep inside for some unknown reason.  Lately it had been a guessing game as to what was going on with him.  Ben knew that he had misjudged the situation about Little Joe’s school project and he didn’t want to make that same kind of mistake again.  Groaning wearily as he stood from the desk, Ben turned for the stairs.  He decided that it was time to try and confront the boy about why he had been in a fight and had lied to him about it.  Hop Sing walked in from the kitchen right on cue and handed him a tray which contained a bowl of chipped ice and two different kinds of ointments to doctor Little Joe’s wounds.  Ben thanked the cook and, drawing in a deep breath, he headed up to his son’s room.

Walking into Little Joe’s bedroom, Ben noticed that the boy was pulling the nightshirt over his head.  He set the tray down on the nightstand and turned his attention on his son.

“Let me have a look at you,” he announced and waved the boy over to the bed.

Little Joe precariously crossed the room and stood next to his father preparing for his inspection.  Ben held the boy’s chin in his right hand and examined the cuts and bruises on his face.  He frowned in frustration as he shook his head.

“Spread out on your bed.  I need to have a look at your chest and stomach, Joseph.”

“I’m okay, really I am, Pa!”

Ben just glared at the boy until he finally did as he had been instructed.  Leaning over the bed, Pa lifted his son’s nightshirt and prodded Little Joe’s rib cage first.

“Does that hurt, Boy?”

“No, Pa,” He murmured.

“Now, don’t you lie to me.  If it’s hurting, I’m going to need to know,” he insisted.

“It just feels a little bruised, Pa – but it’s not hurting much,” He returned quietly.

Ben placed the palm of his hand over the boy’s chest and instructed, “Take a deep breath and hold it in.”

Little Joe did what he had been told to do and waited.

“Now let it out slowly,” Pa said as he leaned down and tried to listen to his son’s lungs.  He didn’t detect any sound out of the ordinary nor did he hear Joe wheezing which might’ve indicated a cracked rib.  “I guess you’ll live,” He grinned feeling very relieved, and patted the boy’s head as he sat down alongside of him.  Ben studied the appearance of the boy’s stomach to see if there was any bruising.  Joe seemed to be okay in that department too.  “Well, I guess your face got the worst of that fight, Young Man.  I’d say you were lucky this time,” he announced and tugged the boy’s nightshirt back down.

“Yes, Sir,” Joe nodded and waited breathlessly.  He presumed that it was about time for the shouting to begin now.

Ben reached over to the nightstand.  He lifted one of the small tins of ointment into his hand and opened it up.  “Let’s put some of this on those cuts,” he announced and dabbed a bit onto each wound.  “Hop Sing wants me to put some of this beeswax on that lip of yours so hold still a minute,” Ben instructed and opened the other tin and applied it to his son’s split lip.  Next, placing some of the ice into a cloth, he called down to the boy, “Hold this over that left eye before it closes up on you, Joseph.”  He handed it to his son.

Little Joe obediently did as he had been instructed and then worriedly stared up at his pa.

“Now are you finally ready to tell me the truth about what happened?”

Sitting up on the bed, Joe held the ice to his eye and took a deep breath before replying.  There was only so much that he was willing to offer up to his pa due to the circumstances.

“Pa – I’m sorry that I lied,” He returned filled with remorse.

Ben reached over and put his hand on his son’s shoulder and asked, “Why did you lie to me, Boy?”

Shrugging his shoulders helplessly he responded, “I knew you’d get mad at me for fighting.  I guess I sort of panicked, you know?”

“Okay, I might’ve gotten angry with you, but you made a bad situation even worse by adding those lies, Joseph.  Did you get into that fight during school today?”

“No, Pa – it was after school.”

“Who was it with and what was it about?  And I expect the truth this time, Young Man,” Ben warned staring directly into the boy’s eyes.

“It was a new kid — and we just got into it, you know?  It wasn’t about anything in particular.”
“Joseph – you want to try that again?”

“Pa –really — it was just a disagreement.  And like you always say – a guy’s got to stand up for himself, right?  That’s what I did – I just stood up for myself.  Well, that is I stood up until he knocked me down a couple of times,” Joe sighed and moved the icepack down to his bruised chin and held it there.

“I think it would be a good idea for me to speak with that boy’s father.  Now what’s his name?”

Little Joe sat up straight and his face took on a stricken appearance.  “Oh, Pa – please don’t do that!  Pa – the other boys at school will say that I’m a snitch or a sore loser!  I promise I’ll steer clear of him – just don’t make me tell you, please?”

Shaking his head, Ben frowned and peered into his son’s eyes.  Then he tried to put himself in his son’s shoes for a minute. He realized that he might cause more problems for the boy if he made a big fuss about the whole incident.  However, he didn’t want Joe to go up against that boy again and perhaps get hurt even worse than he had that day.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” He paused and forced his son’s gaze.  “If you’ll promise me that you won’t fight him again – I’ll not press the issue this time.  But if this happens again, I will be speaking to both his father and to him.”

“Thanks for understanding, Pa,” Joe smiled for the first time all day.

“Joseph, aside from that fight – I’m also concerned about what’s been going on with you,” He began and tried to phrase his next statement as delicately as he could.  “Lately you seem to be having a hard time at school for some reason.  All week long it was all I could do just to get you to agree to go.  And almost every day you’ve come home upset about something.  I can’t help wondering – now that you got into this fight today—if there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

Little Joe looked away from his father’s questioning gaze and placed the icepack back on the nightstand.  “I’m okay, Pa,” He insisted.

Ben pulled his son back over to him and wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulder.  He examined his facial expression.  Joe’s reply had come off too quickly and seemed very unconvincing.  “Is it that shooting, Son?  Are you having trouble dealing with it?  Because I’m here if you need to talk about it.  That’s what having a pa is for you know?”

“It’s not that I don’t still think about it, Pa – but it’ll go away,” he returned quietly.  If he could’ve turned everything over to his father, he would have done it right at that very moment, but Joe didn’t think he could.  He would’ve had to admit to all the nightmares which were still plaguing him and, on top of all of that, he’d have to tell Pa about being harassed in school.  Little Joe didn’t want his father to go and have a talk with the teacher who would then address the issue with his classmates.  As far as Joe was concerned, it wouldn’t make the name calling stop but would cause it to grow far worse.  Then, on top of being called a killer, he’d be considered a little kid who ran to his father to fight his battles for him.  Little Joe could just imagine what the boys like Jimmy would say if Ben Cartwright showed up and got everyone in trouble for picking on his boy.

Ben sighed and shook his head as he stood from the bed.  He could tell that Joe was still hiding things from him, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Would you like me to bring you up some supper in a little while, Son?”

Little Joe leaned back against his pillows and shook his head.  “No thanks, Pa.  To tell you the truth I’m kind of tired.  I think I’d rather just go to sleep early tonight.”

Watching as Joe crawled underneath his covers, Ben tried his best to offer the boy a reassuring smile.  He pushed the curls off Little Joe’s forehead.  “Well, you sleep in tomorrow since it’s Saturday,” Ben nodded.  He turned for the door but paused before moving out into the hall.  “Joseph?” he called across the room.

“Yes, Pa?”

“You don’t have to keep things buried inside of you.  I’m here if you need me, okay?”

Little Joe nodded solemnly over to his father and replied, “Thanks, Pa.”  He then rolled over to hide the tears that were welling up in his eyes again.  *** Please, God, don’t let me dream about Mister Moran’s eyes tonight – or what the kids keep calling me.  Amen. *** he silently prayed.

Ben walked out of the bedroom still wondering what Little Joe was keeping from him and why.

*************

Doctor Martin had ordered that his patient stay confined to his bed for two straight weeks though Little Joe had protested.  Ben had agreed so there wasn’t anything that the boy could do about it but rest and count the days until he’d be free to leave his room.  Once the stitches had all been removed and a sling had been placed on his left arm to help with his shoulder wound, Joe had been allowed to move about in the house.  His brothers had ridden with Sheriff Coffee’s posse until they had made a thorough search for Lucas Moran and had come up empty.  Reluctantly the search had been called off and Roy informed Ben that he believed that Moran had left to go back to Colorado.  None of the Cartwrights were happy about the assailant having gotten away, but there wasn’t a thing that they could do about it but go back to their normal routines.  There were horses to break and a herd of cattle to tend to along with timber contracts to fill.

“I wish I could take this sling off, Pa,” Joe frowned as he sat in the living room and stared over at his father.

“Just another week or so, Joseph – then we’ll see how that shoulder is,” He insisted and poured the boy a cup of coffee and handed it over to him.

“It’s been a month,” he complained as he accepted the drink, holding it in his right hand.

“Three weeks is not a month, Joseph,” Ben grinned knowing how impatient his son always was when he had to recuperate from an injury.  “Now how about that stomach wound – is it bothering you today?”

Shaking his head he smiled wryly and replied, “Pa – if it was do you think that I’d tell you and then have to do another month stuck in this house?”

Before Ben could reply Hop Sing walked out of the kitchen and moved over to his boss.

“Here list of supplies Hop Sing need today,” he said and handed the piece of paper to Ben.

Taking it from the cook, Ben placed it inside the pocket of his vest.  “I’ll get what you need from the mercantile and bring it all home as soon as I run my errands.  Before you go back to the kitchen, Hop Sing, I have a favor I need from you.”

“What you need?”

Standing from his chair, Ben placed a hand on Hop Sing’s shoulder and pointed over to his son.  “I’d appreciate it if you’d watch this young man while I’m gone.  I wouldn’t put it past him to try and escape from this house.”

“Very funny,” Joe muttered and shook his head.

“Little Joe stay here – I make sure,” Hop Sing nodded and then smiled over at the boy.

Ben reached over and patted Joe’s back before turning for the door.  “Don’t look so glum, Joseph.  It won’t be long before you’ll be outside alongside your brothers and complaining that I’m working you too hard!”

“Anything’s better than sitting here looking at these four walls, Pa!” Joe called across the room.

Laughing, Ben waved to both Joe and the cook before walking out to get the buckboard ready.

“You want come watch Hop Sing make cake for supper, Little Joe?” he offered.

Joe shook his head and leaned back on the settee.  “No – I guess I’ll just read some more of this boring novel of Adam’s for now.”

“You no go out door – Hop Sing have good ears!”

“I remember,” Little Joe announced and opened his brother’s book.  Sighing to himself, he began to read to pass the time.

***********

The loud knock on the front door was a welcome distraction and Little Joe stood from the settee.  He opened the door to see one of the hired hands smiling over at him.

“How you doing, Little Joe?”

“I’m okay, Cody.  How have you been?  I’ve not seen you in a long time.  Come on in!”

“Can’t stay long,” He began and walked into the living room.  “I’ve got to get back to the herd.  I saw your pa early this morning and I told him that I was going to drop a letter off at the post office and see if I’d gotten anything from my folks.  I offered to pick up the mail for him while I was there.  So, here you go.”

Little Joe accepted the stack of mail and nodded to the man.  “I know that Pa appreciates you doing this for him.  It took one errand off his list today.  Hey – how about staying for some coffee?”

“I would if I could spare the time – but I’ve got to get up to the herd.  Adam volunteered me to watch those stupid steers overnight,” He laughed and turned to leave.

“Sounds like something he’d do,” Joe chuckled as he walked Cody back to the door.  “Thanks again.”

“No problem.  You get well soon, Little Joe!” He grinned and walked outside.

“I hear door!” Hop Sing exclaimed as he hurried out of the kitchen, drying his hands on his apron.

“Did you think I escaped?” Joe asked with a guilty smile painting his lips.

“No can trust you, Little Joe,” Hop Sing explained studying the boy’s face.

“Relax – it was just Cody bringing the mail for Pa.”

“All light, Hop Sing go back to work – you sit down!”

“Okay, okay!  I’m just gonna put this mail on Pa’s desk first and then I’ll sit down,” he sighed and walked into his father’s study.  Curiosity getting the best of him, Little Joe spread the mail on top of his father’s desk and studied the postmarks.  It was then that he noticed an envelope with his name on it.

“Oregon?” He muttered to himself and took a seat in his father’s chair.  “I don’t know anyone in Oregon.”  Little Joe reached inside the top drawer and drew out the letter opener.  He was able to use his left elbow to hold the envelope down while he sliced it open using his right hand.  Little Joe pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.   It was then that his face grew pale.  There was only one word written in large black letters.  It simply read “killer”.

Little Joe closed his eyes as he thought back to those first horrible weeks after he had killed Calvin Moran.  He could still hear the daily taunts of the schoolchildren and remembered how awful they had made him feel.  Standing from the desk, Joe hurried up to his bedroom trying to escape from his memories.

************

Ben had gotten an earful from the cook when he arrived back to the house late that afternoon.  Hop Sing had explained that Little Joe had gone up to his room shortly after the mail had been delivered.  The man had been worried when he had checked on the boy and Little Joe just told him that he wanted to be left alone.  That was when Ben checked to see what had come in the mail, trying to figure out what had changed his son’s disposition.  He was confused and angry when he read what was written in the letter that Joe had opened.  Ben studied the postmark for a clue but all he could ascertain was that it had been postmarked from Jacksonville Oregon.  Worried about his son, he walked up to the boy’s room.

“Joseph?” he called through the boy’s door.  “You awake?”

When there hadn’t been an answer, Ben walked inside the room only to see his son sitting by his window staring out as if he was in a daze.

Shaking his head, filled with worry, Ben neared Joe and dropped a hand onto his shoulder.  “Son, are you okay?” he asked softly.

“It’s happening all over again, Pa- – just like three years ago,” Joe whispered sadly.

Ben sighed and patted the boy’s back.  “It’s obviously Lucas Moran.  He must’ve made it up to Oregon and is just trying to upset you.  Don’t let him, Joseph.”

“Can’t help it, Pa,” He responded dropping his head down.  “I had to live through this once—why do I have to go through it again?” he pleaded for an answer as he finally looked up at his father.

Ben sank down onto the bottom of his son’s bed and closed his eyes.  He knew exactly what the boy had alluded to.  The schoolchildren hadn’t stopped their taunts even after the first week.  The awful events just grew worse until his son had almost caved under the pressure from the bullying he had experienced daily.  *** Oh, Joseph! *** He thought back to what had happened the second week after the death of Calvin Moran.

************

“Do you have your report on the Mayflower to turn into Mrs. Gower today, Joseph?” Ben asked as he stood outside of the barn watching the boy getting ready to leave for school.

“Yes, Sir,” Little Joe nodded and tightened his book-strap before placing his schoolwork inside of his saddlebags.  “I put it inside of my history book so I wouldn’t forget.  I’ll give it to her today, Pa.”

Smiling up at the boy proudly as he launched into his saddle, Pa announced, “I’m glad that we got to talk to her in church yesterday.  And I bet she’s going to give you a good grade on it.  You did a wonderful job, Son.”

“Thanks.  I guess I’d better get going, I don’t want to be late.”

Patting the boy’s knee, Ben replied, “Have a good day.  And don’t forget our deal about not getting into any more fights, Joseph.”

“Sure, Pa – I won’t.  I’ll see you later,” Joe nodded and turned Cochise out of the yard.

Ben watched as his son rode off to school.  He said a silent prayer that the boy would have a better week than the previous one had been.

Little Joe eyed the boys who stood just outside of the schoolhouse and wondered if they had plans to start something with him.  He decided that instead of waiting outside like most of the kids did that he’d just wait inside the classroom, thereby lessening the chance that he’d be harassed.  Removing his jacket and hanging it on a peg in the foyer, Little Joe walked to the middle row where he always sat.  Mrs. Gower showed up shortly thereafter and greeted him before ringing the bell.  He was relieved that things were going better than usual as the other children filed inside.  Jimmy Drayton pointed over at him and sneered.  But Little Joe chose to ignore the troublemaker and opened his English textbook and pretended to study.  He wanted to avoid another fracas like he’d gotten into Friday.

When lunchtime rolled around, Little Joe sat by himself not wanting to talk to anyone, including the few friends that he had left.  All he wanted to do was to just get through the day and go back home where he felt safe.  Mrs. Gower had gone out to check on the students before eating her lunch inside the school.  Just as soon as she had gone back inside the taunts began once more.  Kids circled around the tree where Little Joe sat and they all chanted “killer”.  Little Joe looked over at Jimmy and could tell that he had instigated it all.  There wasn’t anything that Joe could do but simply sit there and wait for all of them to grow tired of it.  He was glad when the teacher finally showed up and rang the bell to announce that lunch was over.  Little Joe was the first student to enter the school, trying his best to steer clear of the other kids.

Mrs. Gower called for the class to hand in their written assignments and one by one they passed their papers to the front of the room.  The teacher gathered the papers and placed them on her desk.

“Little Joe?”

“Yes, Ma’am?” He answered quietly.

“Do you have that report we spoke about yesterday?”

Little Joe nodded and reached for his history book.  Opening it up to where he had placed the report for safekeeping, he noticed that there were now two sheets of paper inside.  Confused, he opened both up.  One was the report he had written Sunday and the other was a plain sheet of paper with one word in big black letters.  It said “killer” on it.

“Little Joe?” Mrs. Gower called over to the boy again.  “If you have it bring it up to me.”

Staring around the room, he noticed Jimmy smiling from ear to ear.  Little Joe now knew who had placed the note inside his book.  He turned away from him and hurriedly brought his report up to the teacher.

“Here it is, Mrs. Gower,” Little Joe murmured and handed the paper to her.

“Is something wrong, Joseph?” She asked, noticing how the boy’s face looked very flushed.

Little Joe simply shook his head and walked back to his seat.  There wasn’t anything he could say to Mrs. Gower.  If he had shown her the note that had been left inside of his book, then it would eventually reveal everything that had been going on for a week.   He felt that if the teacher reprimanded the students for harassing him then before long it would make them tease him even more and maybe cause them to come up with a worse nickname for him than killer. Little Joe heard a few of the boys snickering over at him, but they stopped as soon as the teacher turned around from where she had begun to write on the blackboard.

**************

“Little Joe?” Hoss called over to his brother as he walked inside the barn after the boy had returned from school.

“Yeah?” Joe asked as he finished filling the grain bins for all the horses.

“I was just wondering how school went today,” Hoss began and turned over two barrels for both him and his little brother.

Little Joe sighed as he sat opposite Hoss.  “It was okay.”

“Did Mrs. Gower say anything about that report you did?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders and replied, “No – I guess she didn’t have time to read it.”

Hoss studied his little brother’s face and could tell that the boy was upset about something.  He wondered if Joe was still brooding about the shooting or if there was something wrong at school.

“Hey, Little Brother, you ain’t having no problem with any of the other boys, are you?”

Frowning Joe replied, “I guess Pa told you about that fight last week, right?”

“He didn’t have to tell me – I saw what your face looked like Saturday.  Now, Little Joe, sometimes it helps to talk to someone who’s a little closer to your own age.  I mean – Pa has always been a big help to me and all.  But there were times when I had trouble in school and it helped to have Adam to talk to, you know?”

“I can’t figure you ever having trouble in school, Hoss.  You could take on the whole school single handed if you had to!”

Hoss reached over and put his hand on his brother’s arm.  “Just because I’ve always been big, doesn’t mean I never had trouble.  We all have trouble at times, Little Joe.  Now how about talking to me about whatever you’re going through?  I promise that I’ll keep it between the two of us if you want me to,” He offered.

Little Joe stared up into his brother’s eyes and read the sincerity in them.  He wished that he could just tell Hoss what had been going on so at least he could get it out of his gut, but he couldn’t.  No matter who he ran to about what the other children were doing to him it would end the same way.  They’d all call Joe a snitch or a crybaby.  Little Joe figured that he’d just be trading one awful nickname for another.

“I’m okay, Hoss.  It’s like I told Pa – I just have some things that I’ve got to work out myself.”

“Is it about that shooting, Little Joe?  Because you done what you had to do – plain and simple.  And I’m mighty proud of you for saving Pa’s life –and yours too!”

Standing, Joe turned and walked over to Cochise’s stall.  “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, Hoss.  Don’t worry about me – I’m alright.”

Hoss neared his brother and set a hand down onto the boy’s shoulder.  “Okay, Joe – but if you ever need to talk – just come find me.”

“Thanks, Big Brother” Joe whispered and then hurried out of the barn.  He didn’t want his brother to see the tears that were forming in his eyes.  Joe wished with all his heart that he could bare his soul to someone so he wouldn’t have to carry the burden alone.  But he didn’t see any way around the problem, so he’d just have to try to get through it on his own.

*************

For days Ben was worried about how Little Joe was handling whatever he had been keeping from him.  But by the time Thursday rolled around he felt like he’d better try harder to get to the bottom of the problem.  Everyone had tried their best to talk to the boy, including his two brothers and even Hop Sing.  But Joe continued to tell them that he was alright.  He had done his best to get his son to open up to him, but it hadn’t worked.  And when he had peeked in on the boy the night before and noticed how red his eyes were, Ben knew that he had been crying before he had fallen to sleep.  Little Joe never admitted it, but Pa knew that the boy had a world of troubles that he had buried deep inside.  Ben also realized that they weren’t going away without some kind of intervention on his part.

Deciding to stop by the school to confront Mrs. Gower to see if she could offer any insight as to what was going on with his son, Ben rode off that afternoon.  He had hoped to get there at lunchtime when the children would be outside and he could speak to the teacher in private. He also didn’t want his son to hear anything that was being said regarding his father’s concerns.  But by the time he had gotten to the school grounds Ben learned that he was too late.

“Mister Cartwright!” The teacher frantically called to the man before he could dismount.

Ben stared down at the woman and could see that she was very upset about something.  “What is it?” He asked, quickly climbing down from his saddle.  He hurried over to meet her at the bottom of the steps.

“It’s Little Joe – he just rode off a few minutes ago.  He’s so upset – I’m worried that he’ll get hurt!”

“Upset?  Why?  What’s going on with my boy?” Ben fired his questions off in rapid succession.

“Children!” Mrs. Gower shouted to where the schoolchildren were gathered.  “I want you all to remain outside until I tell you to come in.  Mister Cartwright, let me speak to you inside and then you can try to catch up with your boy.”

Ben removed his hat and followed the teacher into the schoolhouse.  Refusing to sit down, he simply stared over at the woman as he stood by her desk.

“I don’t know everything that has happened.  But I promise you that I will get to the bottom of all of this,” She began.

“Just tell me about my son!” Ben was getting irritated that the woman had yet to explain what had gone on and why the boy had ridden off.

“Apparently Little Joe has been being harassed by the other children.  I never realized there was a problem.  He never said a thing to me about any of it!  But today – when they all went outside to eat their lunches – well – Little Joe opened his lunch pail, and these were stuffed inside,” she paused and held out some small pieces of paper in her hand.  “When he saw them, he threw the pail down on the ground and jumped on his horse before I could stop him,” She explained and pulled the boy’s lunch pail out of her desk to show Ben.

One by one Ben looked at the numerous scraps of paper.  Each of them had the word “killer” written on them.  The whole pail was stuffed full of them.

“Oh, my Lord,” Ben gasped.  “Is this what they’ve been calling my son?”

Mrs. Gower nodded remorsefully and answered, “I asked Joe’s friend Mitch.  He told me that most of the children have been calling Little Joe that since just after that shooting happened.  They never did it around me – but every time they were out at recess or lunch, they called him killer.  Well, it went on when he arrived at school — or any other time that I wasn’t outside to hear the kids saying it.”

“Why didn’t Joe’s friends tell you before now?”

“Evidently Little Joe told them not to say anything because he believed that it was up to him to handle it himself.  Your son didn’t think that there was any way that he could stop what was happening, Mister Cartwright.  But today – when he opened that lunch pail – I think it was the last straw.  Mitch said that Joe had been getting other pieces of paper with the word killer written on them, but it was just one here and there, nothing like what they did to him this time.”

“I’ve got to go find him,” Ben announced urgently and turned to leave.

“I can assure you that I will handle this and all the students who were involved will be punished!” She called across the room.

Ben didn’t answer.  He hurriedly jogged out of the schoolhouse and over to his horse.  Swinging up onto Buck he rode out of the schoolyard to search for Little Joe.

************

Ben spotted his son’s solitary figure sitting on the middle of the bridge that crossed Miller’s Pond.  He tied Buck next to Cochise and began the trek over to the boy.  It almost broke his heart to see Little Joe sitting there alone with his face buried in his folded arms leaning against the bottom of the railing.  He hated that he had waited so long to find out what was going on at school.  Though he had tried to get the boy to confide in him, Ben felt that he should have done a better job getting to the bottom of things to spare his son from all the heartache he had endured.

Little Joe could feel the boards of the bridge vibrate underneath him as his father slowly approached.  He didn’t look up because he didn’t want to talk to anyone.  A few minutes later he felt an arm gently easing across his shoulder and he knew that it was his pa.

“Joseph,” Ben began, his voice just above a whisper as he sat down next to the boy.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

In response all the boy did was to helplessly rock his head back and forth on his arms.

“I know that what those children did to you hurt you, Son.  It was a very cruel thing to do to someone.  I’m just so sorry that it happened, Joseph.”

Ben waited for his son to say something.  When a few minutes passed and the only sound that he heard coming from the boy was just a few quiet sniffles, he tried again.  He gently eased his hand down from Little Joe’s shoulder to his upper arm, pulling the boy closer to him.

“Come on, Son, won’t you talk to me?”

Never looking up, Little Joe’s melancholy reply was just barely audible.  “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you could tell me how you feel about things, Joseph.  You’ve kept all your troubles buried deep inside for more than a week now.”

Trying to hide his tears, Little Joe rubbed his eyes.  “Nothing I can say that’ll make a difference, Pa.”

Drawing in a deep breath still trying to get his son to open up to him, Ben pressed on.  “That’s not necessarily true.  Least ways I won’t know how you’re feeling unless you will trust me enough to talk about it.”

“I trust you,” he choked out.

“Then why won’t you tell me all about it?  I know you’ve had quite a time of it this past week and I also know that you’re hurting, Joseph,” Ben tried once more as he gently patted his son’s arm.

“I just hurt, Pa — that’s all – I just hurt.”

“Oh, I know you do, Son.  But maybe if we talk things over it might make you feel better?   You know you used to come to me with your troubles all the time – and I miss that here lately.  I had no idea what was going on with you.  But I do now.  Joseph, I love you and I want to help you,” Pa whispered as he placed his hand on the side of the boy’s head and brought him over to him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Little Joe dragged his nose across his shirtsleeve to blot his tears and replied despondently, “You can’t help me anymore.”

Ben let out an exasperated sigh realizing that he was getting nowhere fast.  “Let’s just see if you’re right about that.  How about we start by you telling me how you’re feeling inside?  Can you do that?” Ben coaxed the boy once more.

“You really want me to tell you how I’m feeling inside, Pa?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay — I –I wish that man with the rifle had just shot and killed me, Pa,” Joe announced, his voice cracking with emotion.

Ben stared at the boy and shook his head, “Now, Joseph – you don’t mean that.  You’re upset and I can’t blame you.  But you don’t mean what you said, Son.”

“At least I wouldn’t be a killer,” He explained, still refusing to look at his father.

“Hey,” Ben whispered and forced his son to lift his head so he could look into his eyes.  “You aren’t a killer and you never were one.”

“No, Pa, I killed that man – so I am a killer!  It’s just like those kids said.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Ben tried again.  “Joseph?  If you had it to do all over again, would you do it the same way or would you rather that man had killed both of us?”

“I just wish that you had killed him, Pa,” Joe admitted and dropped his head back down onto his arms.

“If I could have done it, I would have, Son, to spare you all of this.  But it just didn’t work out that way.    However, I do know that if you hadn’t stopped him, I would’ve been killed that day.  And most likely you would’ve been too.”

“Everyone says I’m a killer, Pa.  All the kids at school – and that old preacher too.  And I’m going to Hell for killing that man according to him.”

“Now, Son,” Ben sighed and lifted Joe’s chin again.  “Not all the kids said that about you.  Your friend Mitch is the one who set your teacher straight about what was happening.  And as for that preacher – well – he wasn’t talking about self-defense.  He was just talking about people who kill for no real reason.  He just didn’t explain himself too well.”

“Oh, Pa,” Little Joe choked out filled with raw emotion.  He finally looked directly into his father’s compassionate eyes.  It was time to let it all out.  “I killed someone!  His eyes – they just keep haunting me in my dreams.  And every day I’ve had to listen to all the kids at school calling me killer!  It’s been so awful, Pa!  They’ve been putting pieces of paper in my books –and today they stuffed my lunch pail with notes that all said killer on them!  I just can’t take it anymore, Pa!”

Ben reached for Joseph, pulling him to his chest and locking him tightly in his protective arms.  It was then that his son’s sobs shook his chest as Little Joe finally vented out all the sorrow that he had held in for more than a week.  He was only fourteen years old and struggling with something that would have tormented even a full-grown man.  On top of all that he had been mocked and harassed at school for well over a week.  Little Joe had never told anyone about what was happening at school nor how badly he had been suffering in silence due to having killed Calvin Moran.

“It hurts so bad, Pa – just so bad.  I wish I could go back and live that day all over again.  I wish you and I never got into that buckboard!” He exclaimed.  Little Joe lifted his head and stared into his father’s eyes.  His chest heaved in and out rapidly as streams of tears flowed down his face.  Ben felt devastated just looking at the boy and seeing the consequences of all that he had endured.  Little Joe had always been such a happy child with a quick smile and a loving nature.  Seeing him like this shook him to the very core.  His son looked so overwhelmed and heartbroken that it took his breath away.

Feeling his son’s body shaking inside his embrace and hearing him crying so hard that he could barely endure it, Ben was beside himself with worry over his boy.  He prayed that he could somehow make his son’s pain go away along with all the heartache caused by the taunts of the schoolchildren.  He wished that he could purge the memory of the shooting from Joseph’s mind too.  It hurt him as the boy’s father to see him so utterly devastated by all that had happened to him.  Ben attempted to find the right words that might ease his son’s suffering.  “I know that you wish it never happened, Son.  I wish that it hadn’t happened too.  And I wish with all my heart that I could make you forget the shooting along with everything that happened there at the school.”

“I wish — that you — could too, Pa,” Little Joe answered, his words coming out between sobs that were gut-wrenching for his father to hear.   “It doesn’t matter — if I’m awake or sleeping, –none of it ever — goes away, Pa.”

“I know, Son,” Ben whispered as he stroked the boy’s curly hair, trying to comfort him.  “Joseph, there was a prayer that I used to read to you when you were little.  It has helped me through some very tough times that have come up in my life.  I think that it might just help you with what you’re going through now.  It was written to help you find peace during times of trouble.  I used to tell you that it was a prayer you could say if you ever needed help.  Do you remember me reciting it to you?”

“No, Pa, I don’t remember.”

“Well, it has been a while.,” Ben paused as he tried to remember exactly how it went.   “It goes something like this.  Heavenly Father, grant me the quiet grace to accept the things I cannot alter, the steadfast courage to do the work placed before me, and the wisdom to discern the difference.  Now do you remember it, Son?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Sir, now I remember,” he whispered.  “So, is it saying that I can’t change what happened, Pa?”

Ben nodded and softly combed his fingers through the boy’s hair again.  “That’s right, Joseph.  You can’t change what’s happened.  But you can ask God to help you get through it.  And someday you’ll realize that there wasn’t anything else that you could have done.”

Little Joe swiped his shirtsleeve under his nose to blot the tears which had drifted down.  “But it still hurts, Pa,” he confessed sadly.

“I know, Son – I know,” He commiserated with his boy, acknowledging the pain he still had inside of him.

“I don’t ever want to go back to that old school, Pa.”

Ben drew in a deep breath and replied, “You will have to go back, Joseph.  But not today.”

“But the kids at school think I’m a killer, Pa,” Joe insisted.  He couldn’t imagine having to face all the children who had taunted him.  Just the idea of it seemed overwhelming to him.

“Then we’ll set them straight about that, Son.  You don’t have to worry about it anymore.  I spoke with your teacher, and she’s going to take care of it.  You’re not going to have to worry about them calling you that anymore, Joseph.  But if anything else comes up about it, I promise you that I will personally set those children straight myself,” Ben reassured the boy, hugging him close to him.

“I tried to handle it by myself, Pa, just like you’ve always said about standing up for yourself.  But it didn’t work,” Joe admitted sadly.   “That fight I had Friday – it was with that new boy Jimmy.  He’s the one who got everyone to start calling me killer.  I tried to get him to stop – but he was bigger than me and I couldn’t take him.”

“You should’ve come to me about all of this, Joseph,” Ben sighed, wondering why the boy had kept so much bottled up inside of him and never asked for his help.  “You should never keep something this important from your father.”

“I just kept hoping that it would stop, Pa.  But it never did.  It just got worse and worse just like my nightmares have gotten,” he admitted and dropped his head down to his chest feeling distraught over all that had happened.

“Well, you know how I feel about fighting,” he paused and then patted the boy’s back.  “But I’m proud of you for standing your ground.  That took courage.  From here on out though I want you to confide in me if anything ever comes up that’s out of your control.  Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now – how about we get on home?”

Little Joe pulled back from his father’s hold and stared into his eyes once more.  “I’m just not ready to go home, Pa,” he confessed hoping that his father would understand.

Ben smiled knowingly and eased the boy down alongside him and nodded.  “Well, then how about we just sit here on this bridge for a while?  It’s a nice day and the two of us deserve to skip school and ranch chores once and awhile, don’t you think?”

Looking up Joe nodded and then leaned his head on his father’s shoulder.  “Pa?”

“Yes?”

“Pa – I was wrong – you did help me.”

Smiling, Ben nodded to the boy, “I’m glad, Joseph.”

Mashing his lips together tightly, and falling deep in thought, Little Joe finally spoke out.  “Do you think my nightmares will ever go away?”

Ben tenderly wrapped his arm around the boy and held him close again.  “Yes, Son, they’ll go away,” he reassured.   “Just give it a little while and everything will work out just fine.  You’ll see, Joseph.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Little Joe whispered as he wiped the last few tears from his face.

Ruffling his hand through his son’s curly hair, Ben smiled down at him and returned, “That’s what I’m here for, Son.”

Father and son sat on the bridge until the sun was ready to set.  Knowing that they needed to get home, Ben stood. He reached down for Little Joe’s hand, pulling him up.  Wrapping his arm around his son’s shoulder, Ben led the boy over to the horses and they headed back to the ranch house.  Due to his father’s wisdom and compassion, for the first time since the shooting, Little Joe felt hopeful that he’d get through the ordeal at school.  And, after listening to his pa, he was beginning to believe that someday he would forget about having killed Calvin Moran.

*************

Ben shook himself from his thoughts and stared across the room at his seventeen-year-old son. He wished that there was a simple solution for his problem like going to sit on the bridge over Miller’s Pond and talk it all out.  But this time was different.  Lucas Moran had almost killed his son.  Now Joseph sat by his window aimlessly staring out at nothing.  He had been shot twice and hadn’t totally recovered yet.  On top of the physical injuries, Little Joe had listened to the man shouting that word “killer” and Ben knew that it had sent the boy back in his mind to where it all had begun three years earlier.  It was still hard to fathom that his son hadn’t even tried to defend himself after he was shot the first time.  It scared him as a father to know that he could have lost his youngest son that day.

“Joseph?” Ben called from the bed where he had been sitting for more than an hour.

Slowly turning towards the voice, Little Joe simply looked in his father’s direction.

“How about we go get something to eat?” Ben continued and forced a smile.

Directing his gaze to the floorboards, Joe replied, “Pa – so you think it was Moran who sent that letter?”

Ben sighed and nodded his head.  “Yes, I do.  And from that postmark he’s a good two-weeks’ ride from here.  Maybe we’ve seen the last of him.”

“Then why the letter?” Joe returned, worry spreading across his face.

Shrugging his shoulders Ben answered, “He’s just trying to get to you, Son.  Don’t let him do it.”

Joe frowned and shook his head wearily.  “He shot me twice – what more does he want?  I can’t bring his pa back.”

Ben stood and stretched his back before moving over to his son.  “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“It’s like being back in that old schoolhouse and listening to all the kids calling me killer again.  And the notes – they were just like the one he sent.”

Reaching down, Ben tugged on his son’s right elbow, lifting him up from the chair.  “Now you remember what Doc said, Joseph.  You need to regain your strength after losing all that blood.  Let’s go get some grub.”

“I feel like I did when I was fourteen, Pa,” Joe admitted filled with a mixture of fear and hopelessness.

Slinging an arm across his son’s shoulder, Ben whispered, “It’s not the same, Son.  And you can’t let it get to you.”

Little Joe drew in a deep breath, surrendering to Pa’s desire to go downstairs.  He turned and walked with his father out of the bedroom.

**************

Both of Joe’s wounds healed completely after two more weeks of convalescing.  None of his family members spoke anymore about Lucas Moran or what had happened the day of the shooting.  They had resolved to make Little Joe forget all about it.  But none of them totally let their guard down, never knowing if the man would decide to double back to settle the score over the death of his father.

Little Joe had been advised by Doctor Martin that he shouldn’t go back to breaking horses or overexert himself too much for another month or so.  And so, he spent most of his days either working on chores around the house or helping to deliver supplies to the two cow camps set up by the northernmost boundary of the ranch.

“Pa?” Hoss called as he walked inside the house and threw his hat down onto the credenza.

“Back already, Son?” Ben answered, coming in from the kitchen.  “I thought you’d be coming in with Joe later?”

“No, Sir.  I helped him unload those supplies he dropped off with Fletcher’s crew and then came back.  Little Joe should fall in here in just a little while.”

Ben nodded and settled in the red leather chair by the fireplace.  He stared over at his son as Hoss sat down on the settee.  “Something on your mind?”

Frowning, Hoss returned, “Yeah, Pa – and it’s about Joe.”

Leaning forward, Ben read the look of concern all over the big man’s face and knew what he was thinking.  “He’s still not wearing his gun, is he?”

“No, Sir – he isn’t.  I tried to talk to him about it the other night, you know?  I mean most likely Moran has moved on –but I still feel uneasy about Joe going around unarmed.  Did you know that he’s not even got a rifle in his scabbard?”

“I know, Son,” Ben sighed.  “He was like that before, remember?”

“You mean after the Calvin Moran shooting, right?”

Nodding, Ben couldn’t help recalling the way that Little Joe had looked the day he had given the boy his first Colt revolver.  He had just turned fifteen and due to all that had happened everyone in the family thought that Joe was ready to be taught how to use a gun.

“Another one of those letters came today,” he announced and stood to turn the logs in the fireplace just to have something to do with his hands.

“Dad gum it!” Hoss fumed.  “Was it from Oregon again?”

“Yes – just like the last three.  I’ve kept Roy informed about it and he wired the sheriff in Jacksonville Oregon.  He sent the description of Moran in the telegram and the sheriff up there said he’d be watching out for him.  But nothing’s come of it so far – other than more letters from Moran that all have just that one word written on them.”

“Just killer,” Hoss commented, still shaking his head very frustrated.  “Who else knows about this, Pa?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders and responded, “Just you, Adam and Roy – and of course the sheriff there in Jacksonville.  I don’t want your little brother to know.  As far as he’s concerned there was only that first one.”

“The only good thing about this whole miserable situation is that at least if Moran is mailing those dad blasted things from Oregon it means he’s not anywhere around here, Pa.”

“I was hoping that someone would catch him, so he’d be sent here to stand trial and get sent to prison.  But they can’t extradite him if they can’t find him, Son.”

Hoss stood and moved closer to his father, worry still very evident on his face.  “Getting back to Little Joe not wearing his gun.  What are you going to do about it, Pa?”

Setting the fire poker back into its former position, Ben retook his seat and answered, “I’ll have a talk with the boy about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?  Why not tonight?” Hoss’ question was filled with urgency in its tone.  “I’m worried that something’s gonna happen to him.”

“I’ll speak to your brother before he goes anywhere tomorrow, Hoss.  Relax.  I don’t want to say anything about it tonight because that boy’s been having nightmares again.  I don’t want to set him off about anything before he goes to bed.”

“You’re right, Pa.  I didn’t know that Little Joe was still having nightmares.  I’m sorry.”

“He’s been doing his best to hide them from all of us but –,” Ben stopped in midsentence when he heard the front door open.

As Little Joe walked inside Ben shot a quick warning glance over at Hoss before standing to welcome his youngest home.

“Well, your brother here was just saying you’d be coming home soon,” Ben smiled and moved over to Joe.

Little Joe stared at his father and then back over to where Hoss was looking his way.  He got the feeling that he’d walked in on a conversation that was about him.

“What’s up?” He asked, still glancing back and forth between Pa and Hoss.

“Nothing – just wondering how you were doing, that’s all,” Ben attempted to downplay his concern.

“I’m fine – maybe a little tired – but fine.”

“Why don’t you rest up awhile before supper is ready, Joseph?  I realize your wounds are all healed but you have been pushing it quite a bit.”

“You’re sure nothing’s wrong?” He responded warily, still not convinced.  “You two weren’t talking about me, were you?”

“Why do you always think that we’ve got nothing better to do than to talk about you, Little Brother?” Hoss grinned, also attempting to cover his concern behind his smile.

“Oh, don’t blame your little brother for being curious, Hoss,” Ben jumped in.  “It’s just his nature.”

“Curious nothing, Pa!  Little Joe is downright suspicious all the time!” Hoss laughed.

Shaking his head, now totally convinced that he had been right about the fact that his brother and father had been talking about him, Joe spoke out.  “It has nothing to do with being curious or suspicious.  Neither you nor Pa have good poker faces no matter how you’re trying to play it off.  Now, what is it?”

Draping an arm around the boy’s shoulder, Ben answered with a forced calmness in his tone, “Joseph, your brother and I were just worried that you’ve been doing too much, and that’s what we were talking about.  That was all.”

“Alright,” Joe nodded and sighed.  He knew that there had to be something that was purposely being kept from him, but he would wait and find out for himself later.  “I think I’ll go lay down for just a little while.”  He turned and walked up to his room without saying anything further.

Just as soon as both men heard Little Joe’s bedroom door close, they looked at each other relieved that he hadn’t pressed them any more than he had.

“We’d better watch what we say, Pa – don’t want him to find out about those other letters,” Hoss insisted.

“I’ll make sure to tell Adam about the one we received today after the boy goes to bed tonight.  I gave Roy the first one, but the other three are inside of my desk.  Oh, and we need to make sure that Joseph doesn’t pick up the mail for a while just in case we get another one,” Ben nodded over to Hoss.

Little Joe paused at the top of the staircase and tried not to make a sound.  He had opened and closed his bedroom door before quietly stealing his way back to the stairs.  He disguised his presence, hiding just out of view in the hope that he’d learn what Hoss and Pa had been talking about right before he had walked inside.  Now he knew.

************

The next morning both Adam and Hoss hurried through breakfast due to having to help up at the timber camp.  The crews up there had a large order of railroad ties to fill and they were shorthanded.  Little Joe wasn’t supposed to do any heavy lifting so he would be staying home to do chores that day.  Ben had to leave for Virginia City soon due to his own responsibilities.  He had a meeting with his attorney and would need to hire some new loggers to help fill the large timber contract he had signed earlier in the week.

After he had waved goodbye to his older boys, Ben turned to see Joe getting ready to go outside and begin his chores.

“Joseph, I’d like to talk with you for a minute before I’ve got to leave for town.  Come over to my desk.”

“What’s this all about, Pa?” he asked as he followed his father over to the study.  He sat down in the side chair as Ben took his seat at the desk.

Clearing his throat, Ben stared over at the boy and chose his words carefully.

“It’s about you not wearing your gun, Joseph.”

Shaking his head, Little Joe frowned.  “Pa, I thought we went through all of this last week?” he complained.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go running around unarmed.  You’re not even taking a rifle out with you and that’s got me worried.  A man can’t be too careful, you know?  You could encounter a mountain lion – or a poacher – or –” Ben was cut off by his son, who abruptly stood from his chair.

“Or Moran!” Joe broke in with anger suddenly very evident on his face and in his tone.

Ben stared over at the boy and wondered why he had gotten upset that quickly.

“No, Son, I don’t think we have to worry about him,” He replied softly, attempting to quiet the boy before things got out of hand.

“How would you know that, Pa?” he returned, already knowing the answer to his own question but wanting to see if his father was going to be truthful with him this time.

“I’ve spoken to Roy and he believes that Moran is still somewhere in Oregon.”

“That wouldn’t be because I got another letter, would it?”  Joe questioned and forced his gaze at his father.

Reading the appearance of betrayal on his son’s face, Ben sighed wearily.  “So, you know then?”

“I heard, Pa – why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, filled with hurt over the fact that everyone had kept Moran’s last three letters from him.

Ben stood from his desk and walked over to the boy.  He placed a hand onto Joe’s shoulder and tried to explain.  “Son, I knew how upset you’d gotten after seeing that first letter.  I also knew that it made you think back to what happened three years ago.”

“You shouldn’t have kept it from me!” he insisted.

“Maybe,” Ben paused and forced Joe’s gaze.  “And maybe you shouldn’t have kept the fact that you’ve been having nightmares from me.”

Little Joe dropped back down into the chair after hearing his father’s statement.  He thought he had done a good job pretending that he’d gotten over the whole event with Lucas Moran.  Now Joe knew that his charade hadn’t worked and somehow Pa had known all along that his sleep had been interrupted by nightmares.

“I just didn’t want to talk about it, Pa,” Joe admitted, his voice lowered as anxiety spread across his face.  “I wanted to work this out on my own.”

Ben shook his head due to the memory of the fourteen-year-old who had done the same thing three years ago.  Little Joe had tried to work things out on his own back then only to have everything go from bad to worse.  The past was blending with the present yet again.

“Son,” he began and dropped a hand down onto Joe’s shoulder for comfort.  “I know that this has been weighing on you ever since Lucas Moran shot you.  I know that the things he said to you that day hurt you –as well as what he put in that letter.  Maybe I was overly protective – well – nothing new there, right?” He smiled as he eased down on the corner of his desk.  “I want to help you, Joseph.  But you’ve got to let me in first.”

“Okay,” Joe nodded and decided that it was time to confess some of what he had been going through to his father.  “Back three years ago – remember those dreams that I had for months?  They were all about seeing Calvin Moran’s eyes just looking at me.”

“I remember.  Is that what’s happening now?”

“Sometimes, Pa – and other times it’s both him and his son.  They both take turns shouting “killer” and then they shoot at me.  That’s usually when I wake up in a cold sweat.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Ben turned and settled back down in his chair to think about what his son had just confessed to him.

“You know it took a couple months back three years ago—but those nightmares eventually went away, Joseph.  Maybe these will too?” he offered, trying his best to dissuade his son from worrying about his dreams.

“I don’t think so, Pa.  Not with Moran still out there somewhere.”

Ben studied his son’s face and could tell that the boy was worried.  “Son, I still don’t understand why you refuse to wear your gun.  If you think that Moran might come back – then why not have something to protect yourself with?”

Little Joe shrugged his shoulders helplessly and fought to explain himself.  “Pa – just like after I shot his father – you remember?  You bought me my first Colt revolver six months after the shooting when I turned fifteen.  You taught me how to clean it, how to load it and how to know what to do with it.  But I wouldn’t wear it.”

“Yes, I remember,” Ben nodded.  “But when you finally decided that you were ready, eventually you did begin to wear it.  And you’ve proven over the years that you can handle yourself very well.  I don’t think there’s anyone around here who can do any better than you, Joseph.  And that’s exactly why I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d start wearing your gun again.”

Little Joe dropped his head to his chest and struggled with what his father was asking him to do.

“Joseph?” Ben called over to the boy when several minutes had passed and he had yet to reply.

“Just give me some time, Pa – will you?  Maybe once the nightmares go away – maybe then I’ll start wearing it.”

“Even though we got a new letter yesterday, you need to think on the fact that Moran could still come back here.  Jacksonville, Oregon is about a two-week ride from here on horseback.  If we are to assume that the letter took about a week by stage to get to Virginia City, well – that could mean that he could show up as early as next week.  I just don’t feel comfortable knowing that you’re riding around unarmed.”

Little Joe leaned forward in the chair, covering his face with his hands. He thought about what his father had just said.  He knew that Pa was worried and he didn’t want to make it worse.  Finally dropping his hands down, he turned and looked over at him.  “Just give me a couple more days to work it out in my head, will you, Pa?  I’ll stay close to the ranch I promise.”

“Joseph, that doesn’t exactly ease my mind.  You were shot right here on the ranch,” Ben reminded the boy.

“I’ll watch myself, Pa.  I just need a couple days to figure some things out.”

Ben sighed as he stood from his desk once more.  He walked over to his son and dropped a hand down onto the back of his neck.  “Alright,” He nodded, still filled with worry.   “I’ll do that for you if you’ll promise to confide in me if you have another nightmare.”

“Yes, Sir, I promise that I will.”

“I guess you’ll be working around here today, right?”

“Yeah, Pa – I’ll be doing both Hoss and Adam’s chores as well as my own since they’re busy with the timber crew,” he nodded.  “Don’t you have to leave soon?”

Ben reached for his pocket watch and studied the time.  “Yes, and I’d best gather up what I need to drop by the attorney’s office and then get moving.”

Little Joe forced a smile as he stood from the chair.  “I’ll go saddle Buck for you, Pa.”

“Thank you,” Ben returned his son’s smile and then walked up to his room to get his briefcase.

Little Joe walked over to the credenza to get his jacket.  His eyes fell on the holster resting there in the same place where it had been ever since the day that Lucas Moran had shot him.  He dropped his left hand onto the leather and closed his eyes.  Joe vividly recalled the day he had been given the holster and gun.  He could still see the package that his father had set there on the top of the credenza.  It was his fifteenth birthday, and the gift had been a special one.

************

“Well?  Do you like it, Joseph?” Ben asked as the boy opened the box that he had placed there on the credenza.

Little Joe stared down at the present but couldn’t speak.  The holster was honey-brown in color and the Colt resting inside had an ivory stock.  It was exactly what he had always wanted.  He remembered pointing out that very holster to his pa months ago.  But that was before he had killed Calvin Moran.  Ever since that day he hadn’t said one word about wanting a gun.  Little Joe could feel the eyes of everyone in the room looking at him.  Pa and his two brothers were waiting for him to say something about the gift.  Joe’s fingers trembled when his father told him to try the holster on.  He slowly lifted it out from the box and then with great trepidation he strapped it on.

“It looks fine, Son, just fine,” Ben smiled as he moved closer to the boy.  “Now, I’ve not loaded the gun because like I told you before I’m going to teach you all about safety before we practice shooting.”

“You like it don’t you, Kid?” Adam asked, wondering why his little brother hadn’t said a word yet.

“Sure, I do,” Joe nodded and then looked into his father’s eyes.  “Thanks, Pa – it’s great.”

“It’ll take a while before you get use to the weight of a gun but soon it’ll be second nature to you,” Hoss offered his own encouragement.

Little Joe’s hand fell onto the gun there at his side and he closed his eyes.  He remembered diving for his pa’s gun there on the floor of the buckboard.  He could still hear the blast from the weapon and see the man fall from his horse.  Little Joe quickly unbuckled the holster and placed it back inside of the box.

Ben exchanged a concerned glance between his two older boys.  They could all see how Little Joe appeared to be shaken by the gift he had been given.

“Joseph,” Ben began and drew closer to the boy, dropping a hand onto his shoulder.  “It’s okay, you don’t have to use that gun until you’re ready.  I promised you a gun by the time you turned fifteen and I just wanted you to have it today.  You just let me know when you’re ready for me to teach you how to handle it, okay?” He spoke out softly.

“It’s really nice, Pa — thanks —,” Joe paused still fighting to find the right words to say.  He had wanted that holster for so long and the idea that his father thought that he was mature enough to use a gun had made him happy.  But the memory of killing Calvin Moran still haunted him.  “Maybe we can wait just a little while?” He whispered.

“Sure, Son.”

Little Joe shook himself from his memories and settled the holster back on the credenza.  It wasn’t time yet.  He grabbed his jacket and hurried outside to saddle his father’s horse.

***********

Fifteen minutes after his father had ridden out of the front yard Little Joe heard Hop Sing shouting as he walked out of the house.

“What’s wrong, Hop Sing?” Joe asked as he placed the axe back on top of the chopping block and approached the man.

“Mister Ben – he forget Hop Sing list.  I need for supper – must get to father!”

Little Joe walked over to the cook and reached for the piece of paper held in his hand.  “Pa couldn’t have gotten too far.  Don’t worry I’ll ride out and give it to him,” Joe smiled at the man and placed the list inside the pocket of his jacket.

“Thank you, Little Joe,” Hop Sing nodded happily and turned to go back inside.

Hurriedly saddling Cochise, Joe swung up on top of the pinto and kicked at its sides.  He knew that his father wouldn’t be riding too fast so he was sure that he could catch up to him.

*************

Two miles from the ranch house Little Joe reined his horse back, making an abrupt stop.  He was sure that Cochise had picked up a stone in her front right hoof and needed to check on it.  Lifting the hoof to inspect it closely, he pulled out the small rock that had gotten embedded between the horseshoe and the footpad.  Joe patted the horse’s withers and was preparing to launch back up into the saddle when he heard what sounded like two men arguing and it stopped him cold.  Joe turned around and realized he was standing just about twenty yards from where he had killed Calvin Moran.  It was also the exact same place where the man’s son had shot him twice five weeks earlier.  Tying Cochise’s reins to a small scrub bush, he quietly made his way to where he had heard the loud voices.

“I said toss your gun over there!”  Lucas Moran shouted down from his perch.  He had been waiting there on the exact same path where his father had hidden between the boulders readying to kill Ben Cartwright.  It had been the perfect spot for his ambush.

“Moran haven’t you done enough?  You shot my boy twice!” Ben called to the man, still not relinquishing his Colt.

“No – since I didn’t kill your son I guess I’ll kill you.  It’s only fair since your boy killed my pa!  Now drop it!”

“Your father tried to kill both me and my son.  If he hadn’t drawn on us, he’d still be alive!” Ben protested.

“Toss that gun or I’ll just shoot you down right now!”

Frowning, Ben untethered the hammer of his six-gun and tossed it a good eight feet to his right.

Lucas laughed as he held his gun up readying to make the kill shot.  “I wonder what your son will think when he finds you dead on the same spot where he killed my father?”

Little Joe had waited for his chance.  He had hidden just to the left of where his father stood trying to talk Moran out of killing him.  He had to quickly devise a plan to save him.  Joe wished now that he had done as Pa requested and had worn his gun.  Now the only way that he could save him was to try for his father’s pistol and pray that he’d be fast enough to stop the man before he could get off a shot.

“You want to say a little prayer before I send you to meet your maker, Cartwright?” Lucas laughed and aimed his pistol.

Ben saw a blur out of his peripheral vision.  He turned his head the split second that his son dove for his gun and fired the bullet which made Lucas Moran fall to the ground.  Ben hurried to the boy’s side and dropped down next to him.

“Joseph!” He exclaimed as he witnessed the appearance on his son’s face.  The boy looked almost exactly the way he had the day he had grabbed for his pistol there inside the buckboard three years earlier.  Joe appeared to be in shock.

Little Joe shook himself out of his daze and stared over at his father.  “You okay, Pa?” he asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay, Boy,” Ben smiled and patted Joe’s shoulder.  He was relieved to see that his son had recovered a lot quicker than he had some three years earlier.

Little Joe pulled himself to his feet and ran to where Lucas was lying on the ground holding his arm.  He knelt next to the man who had shot him twice and had been preparing to kill his pa.  Joe grabbed the collar of Lucas’ jacket, pulling him towards him roughly.

“I was fourteen years old when I shot your father!  Just a kid!  Your pa drew down on my father trying to kill him.  He shot him in the hand sending my pa’s gun down onto the floor of our buckboard.  I grabbed that gun and fired!  I’d never shot at anyone before.  I couldn’t have shot your father in the arm like I just shot you!  I was just a boy!” Joe shouted, and with each of his declarations he shook the man’s shoulders.  “I’ve had to live with the fact that I killed your pa, and it’s not been easy!  I’ve been called killer – I’ve had nightmares – and all because your father wanted to kill my father and me for no reason!”

Ben neared Little Joe and listened to what he was telling Calvin Moran’s son.  He knew that his son wasn’t just yelling at Lucas.  The boy was shouting at every single child back in that schoolhouse who had taunted him and called him killer.  Ben was glad that Joe was finally getting it all out of his system.  He hoped that it would eventually purge the entire incident from his memory so he could move on with his life.

“You and your father are just alike!” Joe yelled and then pulled the man to his feet.  “You both made me shoot you.  But I’m not a little kid anymore!  I didn’t know how to aim when I was fourteen.  But I do now – and that’s why you’ve just been winged.  Now let’s go – there’s a jailcell waiting for you!”

Ben helped his son tie the rawhide strings from the man’s holster around his wrists.  They retrieved his horse along with both Buck and Cochise.  It was time to take him to see Sheriff Roy Coffee.

***********

Epilogue

Roy Coffee had listened to what both Ben and Little Joe had to tell him that afternoon.  Soon afterwards he had placed Lucas Moran under arrest and settled him into a jailcell in the back.  He was relieved that the man was finally locked up and wouldn’t pose a danger to Little Joe or anyone else ever again.  Roy had told both Cartwrights about the information he had received earlier that day.  The sheriff from Jacksonville, Oregon had sent a wire which advised Roy that someone had been being paid by Moran to send the letters to Little Joe.  Lucas had told another man to send the last letter as a ploy over a week ago to give him time to get back to the Ponderosa.  He had figured that no one would be looking for him so soon and he’d have the perfect chance to kill Little Joe.  Both Ben and Joe took in the information and were glad that Lucas hadn’t made good on his threat.  They knew that the man would be serving a prison sentence soon and they wouldn’t have to worry about him for a long while.

After they had got Lucas Moran taken care of, Little Joe insisted that he was fine and told his father to finish his business in town.  Though Ben had hesitated at first, he realized that his son looked as though he might need some time alone to think about everything that had happened that day.   Ben finally acquiesced and went on to accomplish everything he had earlier planned to do that day.

***********

Ben had anticipated that his youngest son would arrive home later that afternoon, but when he hadn’t made it in by five o’clock, he couldn’t help worrying.  He gathered a few things before going out to search for the boy.  Ben had an inkling as to where he’d find Little Joe this time.

The solitary figure on the bridge that crossed Miller’s Pond was easy to spot as Ben dismounted and tied Buck next to Cochise.  He walked across the weathered wood planking to where Little Joe stood leaning against the railing deep in thought.

“Joseph?” Ben called as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.  “You alright?”

Little Joe nodded and looked up at his father.  “Yeah, Pa – just thinking.”

“You know as a matter of fact I’ve been doing some thinking too,” he retorted smiling.

Joe stared into his father’s eyes and read the mirth in them.  “About what, Pa?”

“Well, it’s now twice that you’ve saved your poor old father.  I’m sure glad you’ve got good reflexes, Son!”

Little Joe rewarded his father with a smile over what he had said.  “It wasn’t easy either time though, Pa,” he confessed.

Ben squeezed the boy’s shoulder and nodded.  “I know that, Joseph.  But you did what you had to.  And I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

Ben had been standing there the whole time with his right hand behind his back, hiding something that he had brought with him to give to his son.  “I’d be even prouder if you’d put this back on,” he said and handed the boy his gun and holster.

Little Joe stared down at both the honey-brown colored holster and the ivory handled pistol before taking them from his father’s hand.  Finally nodding his acceptance to his pa, he secured the gun belt around his waist.

“I like my Colt a whole lot better than I like yours, Pa,” Joe returned, grinning after witnessing the relief spreading across his father’s face.

Ben slung an arm around his son’s shoulder and turned him in the other direction.  “How about we get on home?”

Little Joe impishly grinned up at his father as he lowered himself down onto the bridge.  “It’s a good day to skip out on some chores, Pa.  Don’t you think?”

Ben sighed and shook his head.  “Alright,” He agreed and sat down alongside his boy.

Sitting there next to his father, Little Joe thought back to all that had happened over the three years since he had shot Calvin Moran.  He knew that he would never have gotten through it all without the man there at his side.  Little Joe leaned over and whispered, “Thanks, Pa.”

Staring into the eyes of the seventeen-year-old young man he vividly remembered the fourteen-year-old boy who had said those same words three years earlier.  Ruffling his hand through his son’s curly hair, Ben smiled over at him and returned, “That’s what I’m here for, Son.”

Together both father and son sat on the bridge for hours.  Part of the time they just talked about life and different situations that they’d both been in over the years.  And the rest of the time they just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, and enjoyed the comfortable silence.  Just before sunset Ben stood and reached for his son’s hand.  He pulled Little Joe to his feet and settled an arm across the boy’s shoulder.  Together they walked back to the horses.  It was time to go home.

The End

Written by Wrangler

5/25.2026

(Dedicated to my story consultant Rob for his input and encouragement.  And to someone who asked for this story which had been lying unfinished for eight months.)